Vulnerable
by DaoXiong
Summary: *CroMa sendup mixing fluff and smut. Plenty of other fanon/fanfic shoutouts too. When Death City is hit by a record storm, DWMA is closed for flooding, and Crona is forced to stay at Maka and Soul's house. How much more can you know about someone who already knows your very soul? How much would you want to learn? Can you talk about your feelings when nobody ever gave you the words?
1. Chapter 1

The sands and dust of Death City swirled in a maelstrom of beige and brown, shot out of the air and swept off of the street by the driving rain. Wind roared around them as lamplights down the mist-covered streets swayed and clanged like tree limbs in the deluge.

"I-I thought it wasn't supposed to rain in the desert..."

"What?" Maka almost shouted, turning a cheek towards Crona, lending an ear angled away from the hissing winds as they stomped quickly through the storm. Before Crona could respond, the hood to his jacket flapped away in the wind as he felt a familiar, dull pain, the skin on his back splitting open cleanly.

"HE SAID WHY THE HELL ARE WE RUNNING THROUGH A FUCKING HURRICANE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMN DESERT, YOU DEAF COW!"

"R-Ragnaroook!" Crona whined, trying to reach behind him and reclaim the hood keeping him relatively dry in the rain, now flapping and fluttering like an open parachute behind the inky-black growth now leering over Crona's head while rain quickly drenched his lavender hair.  
"Ahh, shut your trap! You know how cold you get when you're out in the freaking rain?! I feel that on the inside, dingus!" He shivered dramatically, sputtering in his rant as the winds picked up, "Not my fault you can't speak up for yourself!"

A wet, gloved hand knocked the demon into a spin, Crona wincing as he heard the sharp crack over his head, like thunder. She'd never risk a prize book to water damage, but the surprising lack of a traditional Maka-chop left Ragnarok wholly unprepared for the smack. He spun into a near vortex of defeated black blood, spiraling back down into his Meister's back. Ragnarok felt much colder when he rejoined his blood. Crona shivered in a way that rattled him to the bone. Had Ragnarok slid back inside sopping wet, or did him coming out during the rain invite more water to rush into his body? He felt funny, an "I don't know how to deal with being cold on the inside" kind of funny. He'd felt his blood run cold in particularly tense moments, just like they'd say in melodramas, but this was...really cold. Crona stumbled against the current as he tried to continue his march uphill. He hated this flushed, overwhelmed feeling he got whenever he was anxious, but now he felt thoroughly soaked in the hissing rainstorm, the burning flush of anxiety meeting the icy bath of rain.  
"Why did he even come out if he didn't want to be cold or wet..?" Crona mumbled to himself. He looked upward and saw Maka looking over at him with a mixed expression. He shifted his feet loosely on the ground, almost feeling a river of water carry away his heel before he noticed, more clearly, the gloved hand reaching through the haze of downpour to grab his.

He knew that she always liked to guide him, that she felt a sort of friendly need to lead, just as Crona felt a need to protect and listen to Maka. Right now, though, he mostly felt ashamed, and her face didn't help. How could he tell the difference between a polite smile of comfort and a pained smile of pity? Even now, it was hard to focus on her gaze when rain stings his eyes, but from his point of view she looked upset in at least five different ways. Aside from Ragnarok's rude comments, she was upset that Ragnarok had decided to burst out and take away Crona's last refuge of warm, dry cloth in his hoodie. She also felt for the slight pains and jolts that accompany Ragnarok ripping through his skin and his blood turning steely. She could see the pain and embarrassment that accompanied every visit, and couldn't imagine the tension and discomfort of having a shapeshifting bully living as part of your own blood. Beyond that, though, she recognized that even without Ragnarok's interruption, he still didn't enjoy walking uphill in the rain. Was her stretched hand an offer of help or just an attempt to pull him along faster? After all, why was he standing there in the rain just looking at her, frozen in place?  
"Hey," she started, that polite little smile pursing as she called beyond the din of the storm, "I know it's a lot," she punctuated that last word in a way that made Crona blush. How easily she could see through to the core of his anxieties, and what little she needed to say to empathize with him. It was almost magic…  
"I-I'm s-sorry for him-" Crona started  
"Don't." She smiled a little wider and waggled her wet gloved hand in front of him, "I know it's a lot, but it'll be all better once we're home."

He shivered again and bit his lip, finding the strength to reach out and hold onto her hand. As they touched he thought about her strong yet soothing words. "Once we're home." Not, "once we're back at my place" or "once we're out of the rain..." He suddenly felt Maka twist on her heel, drenched ponytails whipping in the air as she turned around and started off in a march up the rest of the hill, Crona stumbling along behind her, still shaking off rain in wobbly shivers.

' _Holding her hand always helps when I don't know how to deal with something,'_ Crona thought, _'I can't deal with being in a hurricane, but I can deal with walking down the street with her. I don't have to open my eyes or listen to the weather. Just walk...and hold on.'_

Little by little the rain was tuned out from his ears, the roar of rushing water sounding faint and pleasant, like the crashing of distant waves. He could still feel her hand in his, guiding him, but the slog through the deluge was different. In his mind's eye, Crona was elsewhere, on the beach, running against the tides up and down the wet sand. Before he never had any reason to like the sand, no reason to do anything other than sit still in his circle. He never knew just how fun frolicking in the water was. The sun radiated overhead with joy, and Raven was nowhere to be found, no maddening shadow to question and play games with his psyche. Instead, a childlike Maka was kicking up sand and romping down the beach without a care in the world, doing her ample best to imbue Crona with the same carefree sense of fun. This felt so much better than the other daydreams...in the back of his mind, he could hide in a warm, friendly corner, a hot and sandy shore with his best friend. Meanwhile, in reality, the roar and wetness of water was there, the frantic running was there, and Maka was there holding his hand. And...also laughing? Laughing on the beach with nothing to do but sprint into the dipping western sunlight made sense, but why would she laugh in this storm?

A crack of lightning broke through his daydream. He blinked to find no rain stinging his eyes, hearing a gentle drumming of the fierce downpour against a canvas awning. He glanced this way and that to see that they had reached a long storefront development that he remembered from a sunnier day. He went there to eat with Soul and Kid as a "guys' outing" while Maka, Liz and Patti surprised Kim with an impromptu birthday party. He glanced in the dim night at the long stretch of awnings that now shielded him from the rain, extending past multiple developments and kiosks down the street and around the block. He glanced in the storefront mirror, his stomach secretly reminiscing about something called "bisque." He remembered eating while Kid fretted over finding the perfectly symmetrical lunch item and Soul claimed coolly that he had already eaten before Maka left for the party. More specifically, he remembered the server staring daggers at him wondering if any of the teens at the table would actually order something to eat. Bisque was the soup of the day, so Crona only muttered a request for a bowl out of simplicity and not specificity. Whenever he did commit to a social outing, he always felt like he was burdening or inconveniencing anybody and everybody. When the waiter brought him his food, he felt a need to dive in, if at least to have something to do besides sit there across from Soul in silence. Well, silence, while Kid still worried over the menu. At times it seemed like he needed Liz and Patti to calm him down, and neither of his lighter-haired companions knew how to deal with his obsessive-compulsions.

It felt so weird to be the only person eating, but it was so warm and nourishing. It reminded him of a phrase he heard, "comfort food." Patti and Liz were arguing about what was most important to comfort food: that it was easy and recognizable, or that it's something that comes from loving family? They could both concur that "comfort food" is something that "warms the soul and lifts the spirits" that specifically connects to your own childhood. Crona had thought about that for most of the afternoon. Thin gruel and the hard crackers that Stein laughed at and called "moldy hardtack" weren't very fun to eat when he was a child, and Lady Medusa never handed out such food in a way that was even remotely "loving."

There were a lot of new foods that Crona had tried and had yet to try, and Stein was very blunt when he discussed Crona's adverse development. It was hard to say, for a long time, if he really had any happy memories to connect with things like favorite foods or books or music, but that overwhelming flavor sensation known as "bisque" seemed to leave a mark on his psyche and soul. Soul was surprised at how quickly he had inhaled the bowl, noting that he personally "would never try some cream soup like that...least, not around the house with that damn cat around." Even Ragnarok was shocked at how little he had managed to steal.

Crona was jerked out of his longing for memories of soup by the sound of Maka's shrieking laughter. When he blinked at his reflection in the window, he saw what kept her running to the end of the street. Maka had given Crona more than enough room under the awnings but left herself only halfway covered, with the awnings dumping and splashing waves of rainwater over her head. She was running faster and faster as water splashed chaotically in cascades around her. Crona couldn't help but stare at her as she charged ahead fearlessly. Soon the covers of canvas ended and they were both back in the storm in full, and Crona found himself wanting to stay closer and closer to her. After their detour around the shopping center, it seemed like mere minutes until they were back at Maka's residence. Maka was laughing with a twinge of anxious glee that reminded Crona of the "crazy-giggles," as Ragnarok called them, as she fumbled in the dark for her keys, the ring slipping around her gloves this way and that. The door clicked open and she fell inside, beckoning Crona to follow as she kicked off her boots. Crona followed suit and dutifully closed and locked the door behind him.  
"Sooouuuul," she called into the living room, "I'm hooome!"

"Right on, you guys didn't drown!" He shouted from the couch. The television was blaring a weather report about heavy rainfall and flash-flooding in and around Death City. Low points in town with poor drainage were nearly two feet underwater, and Maka felt relieved that their trek uphill to their flat was relatively peril-free. Crona, however, was transfixed by the news reports of people evacuating the suburbs around their part of Nevada, about mudslides across interstate highways...it all became too much of a distraction to focus on Maka and Soul's conversation.

"He's staying the night, then?" Soul pointed a thumb at Crona with a flex of his arm.

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"Lord Death tried to reach you maybe ten minutes ago. Scared the hell out of me when I was in combing my hair." he scoffed.

"I'll call him right now," she chattered a little, still drenched with water, walking to the bathroom quickly and clicking the door shut before Crona could really notice her leaving.

"Wicked-bad out there, right? I was scared to even ride my baby in that kinda rain."  
Crona didn't respond to Soul's attempt at conversation. This was his first time in a really dangerous storm. Ragnarok called it a hurricane, but hurricanes don't come this far inland, right? It's just a freak thunderstorm. Besides, Black Star told him that hurricanes were just "wet ocean tornadoes," like they weren't anything to worry about anyway. Soul turned from the couch to look at him and realized just how dripping wet he was.  
"Oh! Jeez, man, well, you look cold. Want me to get you a towel or something?" Soul knew better than to wait for a response on that, venturing over to their linen closet and grabbing a large beach towel. As Crona took it shakily and began to dry his hair, the lights dimmed and the TV died as lightning cracked explosively overhead, shaking part of the house and causing Crona to bury his head deeply into the towel. He continued to hide in the cloth as Soul reassured him that it was just a slight power surge and nothing to freak out about. The bathroom door clicked and swung open, but Maka didn't sound done with her conversation. It was hard to follow as the TV returned to life.  
"Crona? Someone wants to speak with you..~" She grinned as he jerked his head up out of the towel and waltzed over to the bathroom. Crona first noticed the plush white towel tying up her hair, ponytails undone and all her sandy-blonde locks hidden away. Her face was still damp, and she had removed her socks as well as her jacket and tie. She stepped out of the lavatory and showed Crona in, with Lord Death peeking out at him from the sink mirror.

"Howdy, Crona~!" He chimed in cheerily, "Boy, it's really coming down! Sid and Stein were right to want to inspect the grounds," he continued, his mask wavering into a frown, "It's leaking in the lower levels and, well...sorry, bucko, but your room's been flooded."

There was a growing void in Crona's gut. He never had his room flood before. It felt strange not being there to see it. Lord Death let him know that Sid had taken great care to move all his possessions (as scarce as they were) into a dry storage unit on-campus.

"But," added Stein from behind, "This storm is something intense. Slow-moving and part of a larger patch of bad weather moving west-to-east right over the city. It may take some time to repair all the damages."

"Sooo…-" Death murmured, only to be interrupted.

"So THEY thought it would be a swell idea to have you shacking up with my precious little-"  
"PAPAAAAA!" Maka dove into the room looking reading to smash the mirror, barking and shouting at her father who managed to sneak into the Death Room and overhear Stein's plans for Crona's emergency residence.  
"It's bad enough having one weirdo guy hanging around my daughter all night and day, but not this too!" Spirit wailed before a swift Death Chop cut his sobbing short.  
Crona's matter was settled. He was to stay with Maka and Soul as not only was his room flooded, but most of the Academy staff and students had been ordered tmo evacuate until further notice. Only Lord Death, Spirit, Stein, Marie, Sid and Nygus remained at DWMA, and they would all be in touch in case either of the meisters needed anything. Marie seemed especially worried and asked that Maka be sure Crona knows he can reach her and Stein any time he wants. Maka had secretly agreed wholeheartedly to the entire idea beforehand, also hoping to minimize for Crona's sake any and all of Stein's talk about "natural disasters" and "states of emergency" in and around Death City.

Crona slinked out of the bathroom, wholly uncomfortable with the notion of sticking around for more of their aggression, familial rabble-rousing that she claimed was more normal than he thought. Coming from someone with a background like Lady Medusa, however, Crona failed to notice the irony in finding a parental relationship too strange to handle. Backing out of the bathroom, he almost ran into Soul, causing him to jump and turn white, causing the albino pal to smirk in a toothy grin and try his best to chill his friend out and remind him of the towel. Crona grinned in politeness and graciousness and meandered back to the living room. As much as he dried himself, he still felt water dripping around him. He was cold and wet, from the inside-out. He wrapped the beach towel around his soaked outfit and cocooned himself on the couch.

He fretted and worried to himself about the weather only getting worse and worse. Unless the winds changed, it would be raining on Death City night and day! And now all of his things were out of his room, even his most personal belongings. He didn't even ask if everything was safe. Another crack of lightning made him tense up, and he couldn't shake this damp, frigid feeling. He felt funny, and the more his head swam the more airheaded and flushed he became. He felt his damp robe and towel cocoon cause him to sweat. He shivered all over, secretly hoping that for all his sweating this strange feeling would dissipate from his insides. That's when he felt, almost as small as a pinprick, Ragnarok slithering out in a withered form, crossed eyes bugged out of a frail and fragile stream of black blood.

"T-This is the c-c-cow's f-fault!" The demon sword hissed in a tiny little soprano voice unlike even his pint-sized image the Meisters and Weapons around them had gotten used to.

Crona winced, "H-How is it M-Maka's f-fault..?"

"She suckerpunched me in the rain! You're not having your usual dumb Crona shakes, I'm getting sick in there! Ask that cow how the hell you get water out of your bloodstream."

Ragnarok's balloon-like head descended down the smoky trail of black blood into Crona's body, prompting a deep shiver that made his teeth chatter. He listened to the hum of the television, the weather report playing a collection of smooth-jazz music over radar images of nearly the half the state of Nevada covered in rain clouds, the most intense scattered around Death City, Carson City and Reno. Crona still felt weak and found him and his cocoon slumped over and his eyes felt heavy. His head still swam with the fresh memories of slogging through what were apparently flash-flood conditions. It was terrifying, not seeing two feet in front of you and being constantly startled by the rumbling thunder and crack of lightning. Yet, he could lose himself in his imagination, he could forget all about the dismal weather and dangerous conditions, knowing that Maka would show the way for him regardless.

"Crona!" He jerked upright in a dizzy haze.

"M-Maka..?" He rubbed his eyes and blinked awake, before his complexion drained quickly.

Maka stood in front of him wrapped up in a plush and soft bathrobe tied tightly around her frame, her hair down in sandy waves. As casual as she looked, her expression wasn't a pleasant one.

"You're still dripping wet, Crona!" She sighed, "I'm sorry, I just thought you would've wanted to get out of those clothes and jump in the shower. You'll be staying here for a while, so Soul's been looking for something of his that might fit you..."

She trailed off as she looked up and down Crona's body as he unwrapped the towel from around himself, briefly wondering if anything of Soul's would actually fit his lithe, feminine figure. His soaking wet clothes clung tightly against his body. Maka shook herself out of her visual inspection, shutting her eyes tight and opening them again, a plain smile on her face. Crona could never tell if she actually got over things that irritated her or if she just pushed them to the back of her mind and wore a smile.

"Anyway, we should have something for you to wear, and I really don't want you to catch a cold!" She reached a slender hand down to pull him up, and she realized quickly how heavy he was with rainwater as his socks made a spongy squishing sound against the carpet. It wasn't any time for Maka to be a neat freak, or at least that's what she kept reminding herself.

"I'll get you a fresh towel while you get your water ready, okay?" Her voice was gentler now, goading and politely pushing Crona into the bathroom while she took the drier parts of the beach towel and scrubbed it obsessively into the couch and then the carpet.

When the door clicked shut, Crona felt a whir of silence in the room. Ragnarok must really be sick, he usually wastes no time when appearing to torment him in the bathroom. And now he was in somebody else's bathroom! Taking a shower! Exposing himself! What if somebody saw him through the window?

When Crona glanced at the window, he saw a sad silhouette of an animal curled on the sill outside, just barely missing the brunt of the rainfall as it slid off the roof above. That scant space of safety reminded Crona of Maka's sacrifice in the waters before, keeping him dryer regardless of how comfortable she got. She seemed to _enjoy_ that kind of chaos sometimes. Yet, as Crona noted, she had her own rules. She cleaned up quickly and well, wanting the order of cleanliness to promote some kind of general security in her life. It was one of the reasons he didn't mind being at Maka and Soul's house and not, say, Kid's. Order is nice, but Kid's obsessions scared even Crona sometimes. He wouldn't know how to deal with making sure a bathroom is perfectly symmetrical, or the silhouette out the window. Speaking of…  
Crona hanged his hoodie and outer shirt on the wall and let his pants crumple to the floor, feeling nude in his still-damp undershirt and boxer-shorts that stuck to him like flypaper. Powering through the anxieties surrounding possible peeping toms, he opened the window to see what the water-logged animal was doing there. She pounced into the room, first onto the toilet, then into the sink, shaking her fur out into a poofing damp fuzzball. Crona didn't realize who it was until he closed and locked the window.

"T-Tha-a-a-at was me-e-e-ean, Soul!" Blair shrieked, "I toooold you I was going up on the roof for a nap and to wake me in, like, an hour!"

She huffed and strutted around the sink with eyes closed in indignation and purpose in her paws before rubbing her fur into the porcelain, batting at the knobs while she made herself comfortable, curling on her back and idly drinking from a dripping faucet. Crona was almost frozen in fear, but tried his best to inch over to his clothes. That was when Maka called out to him.

"Crona..? I've got some extra clothes for you!"

Blair and Crona blinked simultaneously. He hastily tried to put on his soaked skinny-jeans, only succeeding in yanking them halfway up his calves and tripping over himself, sliding onto the floor weakly as the cat purred at him.

"Ohhhh, it's you~!" she cooed, raising her head up and accidentally bumping it on the faucet, "Ahn! O-Oww..~"

She shook her head quickly and started again, "Well, that makes a lot more sense, now, doesn't it~? Little swordsman's much more likely to come to Blair-Mama's rescue than mean ol' Soul~"

Crona tried to ignore her strange words and unlocked the door shakily, stumbling outside with a bundle of his clothes in his arms. Blair transformed into her human guise to follow him, only to awkwardly slip out of the sink in her feminine form and faceplant on the tile.

Maka almost fell over when Crona collided into her, nearly crying. His first instinct, as had been in the past, was to cling to her in confusion and fear or sprint past her while she dealt with Blair, but this time was different, and he almost forgot why.

Crona had clung to Maka nearly-naked with the rest of his clothes on the floor bundled around them. Maka didn't even notice it until after she chopped a book sideways across an incoming Blair, sending her bouncing against the wall slightly down the corridor, rolling away in her feline form. With that incident behind them, Maka turned her attention to the frightened boy at her feet who was much less clothed than she remembered. She let out an embarrassed smile, but when Crona had noticed she had finally noticed that state of undress, he fell into a panic.

"I'msosorryMaka!" he shouted, "I didn't mean to do this I just opened the window and she was saying all these weird things and I couldn't put on my pants and I just-"

He started to hyperventilate and feel flushed, trying to scamper back into the bathroom to hide; Maka would have none of it. She had come this far into the night without him having an episode over any of the other crazy circumstances they were under, and she wouldn't let Blair or Crona's own insecurity ruin that.

Crona tried to slam the door shut when it was stopped dead.  
"Hey! Dummy!" Maka teased. Crona froze a little again and backed off of the door. Maka gave out another one of those giggles as she pushed past the door and shut it behind her gently, reaching out to grab Crona softly by his bare shoulder, the sleeve of his undershirt falling away as he shook in front of her.

"Hey. Relax." She commanded, her eyes gleaming a little in the fluorescence of the bathroom.

"Stay with me, Crona." She knew how to mix her requests when he was close to a _very_ bad episode. If she was going to make a point, she needed him to not dissociate in the bathroom.

"I want you to think about something. Look at me." She moved her hand up his neck and poked at his cheek with her thumb, making him glance up into her eyes.

"Now, really, look at me." She continued, backing away from him a little and swaying slightly in her bathrobe.

"We're in my house, I invited you in, you'll be staying with us, right?" She asked the obvious to get Crona nodding in agreement, even if he didn't have the strength to speak.

"We're friends, Crona. We're both human, anyway. And we're not strangers..." She pressed her arms together to hold her hands over her stomach, secretly pushing up her bosom a little. Maybe she wanted to seem more alluring, maybe thinking in the back of her mind that perhaps it would put him more at ease if she were easier on his eyes. Then again, it might just make him uncomfortable.

"Everyone needs to undress sometimes, of course. But there's nothing wrong or indecent about your undergarments. And besides, did you notice how little I'm wearing?" She blurted with an odd giggle, her face flushing again, "M-My point is...we're both friends and we shouldn't mind being ourselves with each other...even if that means being more vulnerable, right?"

That was one note that Crona could speak on, "Y-Yeah...I mean...I-I always feel vulnerable but...y-you make it seem okay, l-like you understand it. Y-You make me feel like sometimes...i-it's nice to be vulnerable. I-I don't know what makes you so different f-from miss Blair...y-you don't make me feel all weird and nervous w-when you want to talk to me...or t-touch me."

He didn't understand why her eyes changed their gaze at that slight ramble, but he apparently said something nice as she opened her arms and pressed her warm body into Crona's chilled, damp self in a snuggling hug.

"You're right, Crona." She muttered, giving him a squeeze, "It's good to be vulnerable around the people you...care about. And you don't have to be afraid of what you wear around me. I'm glad I can make you more comfortable."

Her words were cleverly constructed. After so long of knowing Crona so intimately, he was still amazed at how she could communicate things to him.

She stood up straight and smiled deeply at him, sliding her arms down to hold his hands. He felt so...complete. She held his arms in place in a way that kept him from trying to bashfully cover over his scant clothing. He felt like a whole new level of relief and joy had been accomplished in her company. His whole body felt funny beyond the chills and dizziness from before. As he gazed in her eyes and squeezed her hands he felt his pulse pick up and thump loudly in his veins while a strange sensation radiated from within him.

"Now," she finished her speech, squeezing his hands and dropping them before booping him on the nose with a gentle fingertip, "Wash up, get warm, and get dry. We'll hang out some before bed, okay?"

She frowned a little and started to almost look around Crona's body.

"Hmn, I guess I hit Ragnarok pretty hard. He's been pretty quiet...Maybe he just wants to spite me." She noticed Crona's face redden and shifted gears, "But maybe a shower is just what he needs, too! Eheh..."

She gave him a final hug while he stood in a slight daze, "I'm really glad I could help, honest. You aren't a bother, really." Her embrace was like her words, gentle and soothing, warm to the point of burning. But then she made a sound as if something did bother her.

She let go of him and her face flushed. She looked into his eyes before flitting down to somewhere closer to the floor, letting out a quick, shy giggle, looking away into the mirror, "W-Well, I've got to fix my hair, I look awful!" she chided herself, "You wash up and, ah, I'll be around whenever you're done."

Crona blinked as he finally noticed her exiting, wanting to tell her something along the lines of how nice her hair looks already, but she closed the door for him, leaving him the towel and extra clothes she brought on the sink. Crona wondered why she looked at him like that, it was almost like she was glancing at…

He blinked and looked down at his own underpants, almost fainting in anxiety as he wondered to himself why his body would stir like that. It wasn't the lewdest thing in the world, but still his groin felt hot and pulsing with his heartbeat. He didn't have the time or the mental fortitude to deeply analyze the way she looked at him, nor the ability to understand the strange so he gave up, and turned on the shower, fully stripping nude after carefully locking the door.

Before the room fully steamed with hot vapor, Crona had a chance, without Ragnarok's bullying or abuse, to truly look at himself. His body confused him sometimes, but it was the only body he ever had. He flashed another nervous frown at his own privates, modestly cupping him hands over himself as he focused on other, less nerve-wracking parts of his body. He wasn't built like Soul, or Maka, for that matter. Part of him worried about how he would look in whatever clothes she picked for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Hot water was so much more inviting than the rain outside. The room fogged up almost immediately and Crona wanted to stay in there all night if he could. Any anxieties about what Maka or Soul or Blair thought of him didn't matter as long as he was in the privacy of the shower. Unless they were thinking he was taking too long in the shower. He curled up on the floor of the tub, letting the water soak him through and through, giving a temporary relief to his shivers at long last. He felt a bit more warmed and his blood seemed to pump with a little less viscosity.  
"The cow was right. Your girlfriend's ugly, but I guess even an animal can be right twice a day."

Ragnarok came out of his shoulder in a wisp, still looking weak, his face looking almost skeletal and his balled fists appearing scrawnier than usual.

"I don't think that's the right phrase, Ragna-"

"Shut up! I don't know what got into us when the cow hit me, but this is kinda nice." the Demon Sword muttered, "That's why I was willing to give your girlfriend at least _some_ credit, even if I think we're getting swine flu from staying in this pigpen—ow!"

Crona thwapped the weakened weapon on the head with a brush, the wispy wraith of a sword bouncing off his shoulder before going to sleep back inside Crona's body. If they were both sick, at least Ragnarok had it worse on the inside than Crona did on the outside. Soap lathering around his lithe and girlish frame, shampoo scrubbing all around his locks, these feelings overwhelmed his dizziness and made him feel lavishly pampered. Renewed and radiating the gentle scents of Maka's body wash and hair products, he eventually cut off the water and decided to face his new housemates again.

The clothes Maka picked out for him fit, but felt strange for sleepwear. Atop his damp boxers there was at least another layer of protection in a pair of flowing, shining silky-black polyester shorts that barely came halfway down his thighs. For his top, an extremely long gray shirt with subtle floral print that fell over him like a nightgown, barely covering any extra skin than the short shorts. The way it casually draped him reminded him of how his robe felt, and the unisex nature of it seemed comforting. Part of him wondered as he opened the door if this was an outfit Maka specifically wanted to see on him.

He walked back into the living room, where the lights were low and the TV flickered softly. For a minute he barely noticed Maka on the couch, her hair tied into a neat bun as she lay spreadeagled across the sofa in a simple set of white pajamas. Each new set of clothing seemed to show off another side to her, another way to size up her fashion sense, at times serious and womanly, at times flippant and casual. She noticed him after only a few seconds of staring, beaming a smile at him.

"Heyyy, you're out~" She murmured sleepily, adjusting herself on the couch, "Do you like the clothes? I hope they're warm enough; they look nice..."

Crona blushed and fidgeted, playing with the front of his gown as if it were his familiar old robe, "B-But it's just a big shirt and some shorts..."

"Exactly!" She reached out a hand with a slightly mad giggle, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him onto the couch, "It shows off your soft side. It makes you look a lot more comfy in yourself. I know a lot of guys that wouldn't be caught dead looking like this in front of a girl..." Her eyebrows furrowed a little in analysis as she looked him up and down, "You sure you like the outfit?" she asked, Crona not quite sure if he had voiced his opinion, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Crona."

As she said that Maka couldn't help but be aware of her own gaze, how her eyes were studying down his nervously dancing calves as he fidgeted and kicked his mostly-bare legs, or twisted them up in a feminine crossed position.

"I-I mean...S-Soul and Blair..."

"Blair got thrown out for the night." She interjected as she put her hands on her modest hips victoriously, "I don't like pets that aren't nice to company. As for Soul, he's already crashed in his room. Nobody's seeing you in my clothes but me." She giggles and almost snorted, causing her to blush in her own way, darting her eyes down at her own clothes.

"Th-Then...This is fine." He murmured in response, leaning shyly against her body and curling his legs up to his chest, "Do you r-really think th-they look n-nice on me..? Do people like it if you wear their clothes?" Crona asked innocently, wide eyes blinking.

Maka let out a smile along with a deeper blush, "Well, uh..." She tried to mind how she phrased herself, "I think they fit you a lot better than Soul's! Those shorts were way too huge on me and that shirt..."

She stopped. He blinked again, "What about it?" He looked down quizzically at the fabric.

"Well...I used to wear it to bed all the time..or around the house...it's really my mother's." She burned a bright shade of red that made Crona uncomfortable. Did he embarrass her? Or was it embarrassing that he was wearing a woman's shirt?

"I just...really liked how it looks and thought it'd fit you better than me. I used to tie it up when I was a little girl, but even now it kinda fits me like a mini-dress."

He blushed and shivered a little again, wondering two things: how tall Maka's mother had to be to fill out a shirt this large, and what Maka would look like wearing it now. Instead of asking about either, something else fell from his lips.

"E-Everybody makes fun of me for l-looking like a girl or having girl clothes...but girl clothes are okay?"

"Well..." She winced a little, tiptoeing mentally around her theoretical conversation before continuing, "There's often not a lot of difference between what guys and girls wear. Besides, clothes are clothes anyway! I think it's a really nice shirt, so...it looks really nice on you."  
Crona's cheeks flared up in a hazy pink before he felt Maka push a little against his chest, falling over like a tipped calf, his legs detangling from inside the shirt as he meekly settled into the opposite arm of the couch. Maka smiled down at him, noting the off-white colors of her pajama-bottoms almost matched his pale, cream-colored legs. Crona felt her gaze on him and was confused when, with no warning, Maka touched her socks against his ankle, the tips of her toes resting against him like fingers curling around his wrist, something he was far more familiar with.

"You said it's okay being vulnerable at least sometimes, right?" Her foot sank and dragged slightly into the plush couch next to his thigh like soft grass dug underhoof from an anxious fawn. Crona wiggled around on his end of the couch, feeling a slight warmth from her legs as they splayed out on either side of his own.

"Y-You make it okay..." He repeated from earlier, "M-Maka...helps me with a lot of things." He spoke about her as if she wasn't even in front of him, "Sh-She makes me feel like i-it's okay to be myself...she makes me feel l-like I'm wanted...e-even if I'm so needy and arrested."

Maka blinked and craned her neck to the side, "What? Arrested for what?"  
Crona fumbled with his words before blurting out more of his experience with his adoptive family.

"St-Stein says my development was arrested." Oh. That's what he meant, "B-Because Lady Medusa w-was so mean to m-me...I-I heard Marie and Nygus talking about it too. N-Not a lot of people d-deal with what I dealt with as a child, s-so I don't know how to deal with things now. M-Marie wondered if I knew anything at all about, uhm..."

Maka knelt forward on her knees, almost sitting on top of his shins, "Anything about what?"

He blushed a deep shade of red, his body tingling, "M-Marie doesn't th-think I know about l-love..." He squeaked, wanting to jerk his legs back under his gown but finding Maka's weight stopping him, "I-It seems like a pretty big deal...Families love each other, and couples love each other...I-I know what it's like to w-want to make people happy, a-and I know what it's like to have friends now, but...love is different, isn't it?"

She smiled gently and folded her legs to the side, rolling off of his body and pulling him into a hug, "You're right, love is different from that. But those first two are huge parts of it. You and a friend really wanting to make each other happy. If you can deal with that, I'm sure love isn't much more complicated...or at least, it doesn't have to be..."  
He nodded, "Black Star and Soul...they talk about girls a lot, b-but apparently b-boys don't talk about love. Th-They kinda remind me of your father..." Maka's forehead pulsed angrily at the mention of Spirit, but she let it slide with an understanding nod, "W-Why do other boys get so weird around girls? Is it love? I mean, I-I'm weird around everyone, but..."

Maka laughed a little, surprising Crona. She spoke to alleviate his tension surrounding her giggle.

"Sometimes it's love...sometimes it's just puberty. It's supposed to happen to all of us around this age. Guys start noticing girls and really wanting to...be around them, and girls start getting all boy-crazy too." She admitted it bashfully, looking away, unsure herself of how to tackle the topic of female sexuality with him.

"I-If I still don't know what it means to n-notice girls, i-is it because I don't really look like a boy? I mean..."

Maka sat up as she felt something twinge in Crona's very essence. His soul cracked and his eyes welled with tears, "I-It's not j-just s-strangers and c-classmates...L-Lady Medusa n-never said I was a boy...sh-she always called me 'child' o-or 'it.' R-Ragnarok d-didn't think I was a boy sometimes...w-would I feel different if I looked more like a boy, o-or if someone had t-told me I was a boy?"

He blinked and noticed that Maka was crying too. She had never realized beforehand just how much of Crona's childhood was spent in total ambiguity. It was hard enough for her to contemplate not having a friend in the world or any loving parents, atop it all she could now see a little more clearly the lasting psychological damage of Medusa's abuse, both the overt and the subtle.

"Crona," she breathed shallowly, sniffling a little, "you are who you are, a sweet and wonderful person. You didn't deserve the kind of insecurity Lady Medusa gave you. If you feel..."

She paused and edged closer to him bit by bit, wriggling up and pulling him into a deep hug, letting them both cry into their clothes. After another quick sob, she started again, only to be cut off by Crona, whose arms lay at his side.

"If you feel...like a boy-"

"I-I know I have male parts!" he blurted in almost a shrill whisper, his face reddening greatly. He sounded like he had protested the same thing before, to someone else. Maka was almost tempted by a twinge of madness to let him know she already gathered that, but stayed silent. Crona wiggled and quieted down into a low humming tone.

"Nh...R-Ragnarok and Medusa make f-fun of it," he muttered. Maka leaned in close, slightly worried by the flag of Crona referring to his "mother" in the present tense. "I-I read a lot of medical books when I was little to be sure. I-I know the difference between boys and girls." He stated matter-of-factly, likely channeling a defense against Ragnarok or another bully. "I-I'm...male, but..." A frown swept across his face, "t-they always made it sound like either th-those parts were wrong...o-or everything else was wrong."

He began to cry again silently as Maka stroked fingers through his mauve, damp hair. She started cooing at him to shush, as if she didn't have time for Ragnarok or Medusa's second opinions.

"Shh, that's dumb..." Crona blinked out more tears, looking up into her grinning smile, "Crona, we're all different. And I gotta remind you again that we're all human here. We're all built differently, sometimes by genetics, sometimes by chance. It's the things that make you unique that make you beautiful."

She bit her lip and blushed at her use of the word, her rosy cheeks buried in a tuft of hair as Crona finally gave in to her embrace, limply flinging his arms around her body and burying his face shyly in her collar. Upon accepting the hug, Crona's soul submitted to her wavelength. He felt the same warmth he felt inside when frolicking on the sandy shores of his mind's eye. His tears seemed to dissipate into nothingness while his soul was elevated. He thought about what it meant for things to be unique, and how every beautiful thing he'd seen had been distinguished by something. A bright sunrise, a blooming flower, even that specific shade of sandy-auburn hair, that hazelesque permutation of olive-green eyes. To think that he could be just as special in anyone else's eyes, but especially his first and truest friend, the only other soul that knows his...it was almost exhilarating, being so receptive to her soul and willingly shedding his own energy to become one with her.

Maka, meanwhile, felt an undercurrent of anxiety and confusion that she did her best to drown out. As she closed her eyes, an image came to her. A wide, expansive desert, and a prepubescent boy. Naked, badly sunburned and utterly exposed to the elements, his nudity a source of not only anxiety but also pain. The boy was gone and she found herself standing in front of a mirror, feeling sick. It was the first time Maka felt something close to dysphoria, like something was wrong with her body. She felt as if her own exterior was a foolish costume, a cruel prank. She imagined herself raging against the heavens and cursing her genetics for damning her with a petite figure so homely and unbecoming for a woman. She heard voices deride her for her "boyishness" and wondering what kind of freak she was. She felt as though she were to remain sexless forever, failing to blossom as a woman should.

She opened her eyes in shock and fear, letting go of Crona and briefly touching on herself, feeling her stomach, bosom, and hips. Crona saw and widened his eyes, not sure of why she groped herself like that. Maka blushed and curled up a little, laying her head on Crona's shoulder.

"I, uhm...I think I really felt something there." She muttered into his collar.

"M-Me too..." Crona sounded almost dreamy, which took Maka aback. He blushed a deep red as he looked down at her, "W-Was it...not nice for you..?"

Maka turned her head and mulled over it, "Well...what did it feel like to you?" She changed the subject. Crona became red in the face again.

"Uhm...I..." He wiggled slightly, "I felt like I was wearing my formal suit...dressed up and "made pretty" l-like Liz says...y'know, w-when you make me go out and h-help me stay clean a-and talk to everyone. W-When I feel safe and a-at my best, a-and not hiding on the balcony o-or dealing with Ragnarok or freaking out about a stain." He caught himself rambling and returned to the essence of the feeling, "I-It felt like I was that p-prepared, t-that...carefree, wearing m-my best suit…b-but I wasn't wearing it."  
This caught Maka's interest, and she looked up into his eyes, "You weren't?"

"N-No...I was wearing this, o-of course..." He muttered. Maka blushed at how foolish she sounded, realizing that he hadn't been hallucinating quite as vividly as her. "B-But it felt like...I could wear anything a-and I would be okay."

Maka smiled at that and snuggled him tight. Before Crona had a chance to ask about what she felt and why she reacted so strangely, she reached over him for the remote and turned up the volume, finding a nature documentary on arctic wolves. She wanted to leave the conversation on that happy note and forget her own powerful daydream. She reassured him that that was a noble thought to have, and told him how happy she was that her resonance can conjure that feeling in him. They curled up tight together while the rain continued to pour outside.

Crona felt as if saying something would upset her, so he merely returned the hugging and focused on the documentary. It was apparently spring, but it was hard to tell with all the snow. A whole pack of wolves, including a new generation of cubs, braved the wild tundra for food. Catching the scent and following the tracks of a litter of rabbits, the pack followed their instincts to a lake. The mother stayed behind watching over the cubs with the adolescents while the young adults went with father to trek across the freezing lake. They dog-paddled their way across over a span of twenty minutes. Out of breath washing up on the opposite shore, the wolves made a mournful cry that mother could hear across the lake. In their sad notes carried on chilly winds, the males let the mother and children know that they would return safe and sound eventually, no matter what. With that, the mother took the children back to their den.

Crona had always assumed that the alpha-wolves were always at the front of the pack. Why else would people make all those plays on words? He started to fall asleep as the narrator dove into the group dynamics, but one thing stuck with him as he drifted off: true alphas aren't at the front of the pack. Alpha males and females put the young, the sick and the elderly ahead of themselves, guiding and looking out for the pack and not merely demanding the rest of the pack keep up with their pace.

Crona dreamed that he and Maka were out in the snow. Pushing past the blizzardy banks Maka held Crona by the shoulders and walked him forward for a surprise past the blur of white. She had found, for just the two of them, a hot spring in the dead of winter. Maka wasted no time in her carefree fun, immediately ripping off her clothes to skinny-dip in the steamy waters. She yelped in chaotic delight as her slim frame danced along the snow and dove into the spring. Crona was shocked, but he felt a need to strip and jump in the water before she surfaced and saw him. He dove in and felt the hot waters envelope his nudity as if he were blanketed by the warm currents. He surfaced and noticed that Maka's modesty was covered by layers of fog and steam, yet even still, she stretched her legs out into his periphery, almost floating on the water and exposing herself. Crona didn't know at all how to deal with this, and the color drained from his face as he felt his sex organs stir and throb in the presence of her beauty. He shut his eyes tight in embarrassment when he felt her float towards him.

"Hey," she cooed, "What's up?" She sounded so friendly, and Crona swore he could feel her little toes poke and prod at his thigh.

"Is that bothering you..? W-Wow, Crona, I guess you really are a guy..." She teased, breathing a little heavier as she glided up his side. "I'm glad you wanted to do this with me…you trust me, don't you?"

Crona nodded and felt the numbness in his face subside, replaced with an aching, burning blush. He stammered and tried to speak, looking away from her nude body.

"You don't have to say anything, Crona. But you don't have to do that either." She laughed with black-blood-madness dripping from her tongue as she reached over and pulled his face to hers.

"Do you know what would really made me happy right now..?"  
Crona shook his head in ignorance and shame, but she read it as innocence and coyness. She kept her answer simple, preferring to show and not tell. She bumped her forehead against his and held him tight.

"You..~" She cooed coyly. Her hand moved down his slim chest and stomach as she held him still. His eyes shut as she pressed her lips to his, blushing and squeaking meekly as he felt her grope his nethers.

Suddenly something felt terribly wrong. Maka disappeared and there was a sharp pain in his pelvic area. He opened his eyes to see a snake in the bath, slithering out from between his legs with a twinge of red in the water, before Lady Medusa pressed her bare foot tortuously against his groin, standing on the rocks over him.

"Stupid child. Doesn't even know its own body." She produced a sharp scalpel from behind her back. His heartrate quickened and he tried to escape from under her, thrashing in the hot waters and scraping his back against the rocks, his hands and wrists being rubbed raw as he struggled against his creator.  
"I swear, if this _thing_ causes any more problems, I'm going to cut it off!"

Crona opened his eyes and almost catapulted against his sleeping quarters. A heavy blanket had been placed over and tucked in around him and Maka. She neglected to go to her own bed, taking up half the couch instead, the middle area a split battleground between both their legs. Crona's heart pounded and he sweated profusely, feeling a lot stranger than he did before, even feeling hot under this enveloping blanket, but he gave into his wooziness and drowsiness to fall to restless sleep again against the arm-rest and throw pillows. If the weight of the blanket weren't enough to keep him in line, then Maka stirred in her sleep, readjusting her legs after his violent shake. One leg stretched over his and rested across his body, pinning him slightly. Crona had nothing to do but wait out the night, unconsciousness taking its hold on him again.

Maka knew when Crona was sleeping. His sudden start woke her, but she tried to play it off. Last thing she needed was a late-night series of rapid-fire apologies for interrupting her sleep. Whenever he truly fell into a period of deep sleep, it tended to be accompanied by a more audible breathing. He hissed out whistling exhales in a half-snore, and Maka felt safe to adjust her legs again. She pulled her slender legs out from over him quickly and quietly, sitting up in bed and silently wriggling out of the blanket. She could feel the unease in him as he slept. Looking over at him in the darkness, a flash of lightning revealed a sheen of sweat around his forehead and face. Maka frowned and softly stood from the couch, moving to pull the blanket off of him, blushing as she gazed at his sleeping form. With all his tossing and turning, her mother's shirt was now crumpled up at his chest level, his small stomach rising and falling with his deep dreaming breaths. Maka pulled the blanket fully off his legs and looked him over once more. She wanted so desperately to make him feel better and rest easier. It wasn't unlike Crona to have nightmares after particularly stressful or eventful days, but this was serious.

She moved to the back of the couch and pulled some cushions away from the rear, making room for herself next to him. She crawled onto the couch again and did her best to position herself next to him, sharing the side of the couch but no longer the blanket. She found it easy to make herself comfy, and to find a position to watch his dreaming eyes flit behind his eyelids. She worried for him greatly, but it was because she cared, right? That was why she was so close to him. Besides..they had a special bond. Different even from what she had with Soul. And like he said...he liked being vulnerable around her, right?

With that thought in mind she crossed an arm over his bare stomach and lied there breathing gently against his ear. Part of her wanted to be caught, part of her wanted to move, part of her was too scared to. But holding him like this was...new. His body felt so relaxed, and it was the first time she noticed how soft and delicate his torso was. His hips filled out those old oversized gym shorts of hers in a shapely way. Then her color drained and eyes widened when Crona, in total unconscious assertion, reached down and held her wrist tightly, almost in a vice grip. Her breathing was shallow as he slowly released and turned over, leaning to face her and press his body to her as his hand slid up her arm and blindly grabbed for something or someone to hold at night. Occasionally he would squirm or spasm, and those muscle tensions manifested in a tightened thigh around her waist or an arm over her shoulder making her breath hitch.  
The closer she was to him, the more self-conscious she was of her position. How much did Crona know about intimacy? He just told her he didn't understand love, and he sounded like he didn't understand sex. Did that make what Maka was doing wrong, or is it okay as long as it's non-sexual? So many thoughts raced through her mind that she was completely caught off guard when Crona shifted his pelvis against her, feeling a similar warmth to the one from earlier in the bathroom press into her stomach. She squeezed her legs together and shivered weakly, her thoughts immediately racing again.

" _Oh God, t-this isn't happening!_ " She screamed in her head, biting her lip, " _Okay, calm down, that just happens to guys when they sleep. He's probably not thinking anything lewd or gross or anything. He's too sweet for that! He doesn't know anything. He probably doesn't even know he's holding onto me. Besides, why would he even-_ "

She flushed again as he subconsciously squeezed her one more time, holding himself against her as the pulse of his black blood hardened into an audible thumping. Suddenly something in his dream hit its limit; he let go of her and fell onto his back, a sweat breaking out as he froze in place.

"Mm...m'sorry...s-sorry, sorry" he pleaded in his sleep, "'m s-so sorry, 'm not s'posed to..."

Maka knew he talked in his sleep, but rarely did he actually say anything. Ordinarily his night-terrors, as rare as they were, were more frantic and less pronounced. He'd yelp or shout "no" into the night, but never anything so coherent. She leaned closer to him as he mumbled and tried to communicate something to him.

"You...don't have to be sorry, Crona. What is it you aren't supposed to do..?" She whispered into his ear as lightly as possible. Why was she doing this now? Could he actually hear her?

"N-Noh's'posedta t-touch..." he muttered, "Lah-y Medusa says..." he sounded almost childish as he slurred, his voice dialing down into a fearful murmur, "Sh-She says...b-bad boys touch girls l-like that...an bah things wouh happen'f I tried to..."

She studied his unconscious expression before deciding that he was indeed sleeping.

"That's not true, Crona." She found herself outing more complex feelings in his ear, "It's okay to touch and be touched...People say stuff like that all the time. But we both...need touching."

Crona grimaced in his dream, "I-I dun think...I-I should...I dun...I'on'think..." He shivered and shook, his legs kicking a little, "I-I dun w-wanna...I-I won'try to t-touch anymore, Maka."

Her heart almost stopped. Somehow she managed to believe he could have a random...sensual dream, but he was awake? Or...no, he was still asleep. He was...he was really dreaming about her? Where did all that come from?

She slowly slid out of her spot on the couch, going back to her original position across from him. She anxiously watched him sleep and thought over her original plan to actually sleep next to him. Now, his legs stretched out off of one end of the bed, his hips slightly raised as he lay on his side. She wondered if he had dreams like that often. She wondered, given his arrested development as Stein called it, if he knew what he was dreaming about, or if he was dreaming anything erotic at all. To think of him in that way...Crona was one of her best friends, and she knew they had a special bond. He was always so earnest and gentle around her, always so subservient and obedient to whatever she wanted. Was that just because he liked her? No, he had to have...developed these feelings, of course. We're spending...we'll be spending...so much time together. Maybe he doesn't like her like that, after all. He's just confused and having weird dreams...

Thoughts about the near-future and the past came over her as she felt a quivering in her loins. She'd never really felt anything special for a guy-friend before. All the rest were so standoffish about girls...and then there was Crona. The gentlest, most fragile soul she'd ever seen, scarred by a lack of love. People joked that he followed her like a lost puppy, but in a way she loved the jests. She had found him, taken him in when nobody else would, and she knew the type of person he was deep down. Apparently she didn't know it well enough, however, as this was the first time she really gazed at him, or perhaps anyone, seriously as a member of the opposite sex. He was, right? She wouldn't dare to look under his shorts, but his impassioned assertions and the bulge tenting his shorts told her that yes, as far as she could tell, he was very male. His body was as unique and fragile as a snowflake. At times it looked like his hips were wider than hers, his rump even...fuller than hers, when he remembered to eat..

Maka suddenly felt horrible for patronizing her dear friend this way. As rude as it was to wonder such intimate things about him, the events of the last night swam in his head. Certainly all these intimate dreams and muttered confessions were just due to the topic of conversation. It must be a lot for Crona to open up about, so he's bound to have some strange dreams...but what about strange feelings? The longer she looked at him sleeping the more of the good things she remembered about her sensitive and kindhearted friend. How his long-suffering patience made him a perfect gentleman. How his sense of modesty made him all the truer in his friendship. How endearingly he confided in her...knowing that she was the one person in his life he was the most intimate with. She even remembered how he looked in his underwear, and how...he had gently pressed into her, so shyly and accidentally. She couldn't shake the thought of what he might say, if he mentioned it. Would he apologize profusely? Would he ask about what it meant? Surely he'd say something if he knew how he felt.

Her stomach turned. Even the most handsome boys she knew never made her quite this nervous. She thought having Crona over would be as simple as a slumber-party with her girlfriends. Now, she had to push past all this and try to get to sleep, even to forget about it before morning.

Crona still occasionally mumbled in his sleep, shivering against the open air as the blanket lie discarded on the floor. The gentle rainfall gave her some serenity in the night, a lightning flash illuminating a clock and bitterly reminding her of how late, or rather, how early it was. Even if all of Death City flooded overnight, she would still feel terrible for sleeping in. Unless, well, sometimes she really felt for Crona and his way of looking at the world. It's terrifying to deal with too many things or too many people. Sometimes she wanted to get away from it all, like taking a vacation. Some people have security blankets, but Maka...if she had Crona and a large enough blanket, she could probably sleep all day. So why was she so against the thought now? What changed when she looked at him now? He was just as harmless and soft as ever, but she felt like she could take advantage of him, that he never knew how to be close to someone before her, that it was wrong. She tried to sleep it off, reaching out a leg to entwine with his in the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Maka slept infrequently that night, but Crona seemed to be snoozing softly throughout. She hoped he was well-rested, at least. His infrequent kicks or spasms in the night caught her off-guard, even if they shouldn't. She'd been used to these kinds of interruptions in his peace before. She never talked to him about it, but he often missed sleep and seemed, at times, almost narcoleptic. If they ever shared much prolonged contact, sitting together or anything of the sort, Crona was likely to silently nod off and fall into trances against her. Occasionally in those daydreams he would squeeze at her, or jerk awake. The absolute worst was the time she damn-near traumatized him for waking him with a flurry of swears after he, while lying against her chest, suddenly yelped and jumped, knocking the crown of his skull into her jaw and making her bite her tongue. Ragnarok was surprised by the mouth she had and roared awake with laughter while Crona apologized profusely, kowtowing and pleading at her feet for her forgiveness.

Yes, indeed, it was good enough to have him sleep at night, but better than that, most of the night had been without incident besides...that incident. Maka woke at dawn thinking that perhaps it had all been a dream, until she noticed the couch cushions on the floor. Her face burned for a long time, and at times her memory was so vivid that she began to grow hot and bothered. Thankfully, Crona slept heavily, and in his unconscious he didn't seem to mind her legs occasionally grazing over his for warmth. After another hazy hour or two of early morning, Maka noticed Crona shivering again. He would audibly shudder every now and again with timid, ragged breaths, occasionally sniffling in his sleep. Maka put the blanket back over him and touched her hand against his forehead.

He was feverish and clammy at once, almost as if the heat wasn't really "there," like touching a hot-plate with a glove on. He was obviously down with a cold or flu. Her expression turned to worry as she felt along his face. She hadn't ever seen Crona sick before. Well, sick with worry or panic or anxiety, but never contagious, infectious, bodily-fluid-spewing sick. As a hostess she felt ashamed, as Crona's friend she felt sorry for him, but after the simple fun they had just staying in and binging on television and each other's company...she didn't want him so sick that they couldn't spend time together. They already spent so much time with each other whenever the opportunity allowed; she wasn't about to leave him to his illness out of fear it would spread. There were worse things than the flu to Maka, and that included shying away from her friend when he was under the weather. So, placing a wager on her own immune system, she sat back on the couch and slid closer. In her most careful crawl under their blanket she eventually laid herself on his stomach, acting as a pajama'd body pillow that buried herself in his slender chest.

Thoughts of last night swirled in her mind as she finally held a grasp on him. His sudden jerking motions in his sleep, as she'd noted time and again, were perfectly...understandable for someone of Crona's level of trauma. In a way, she was surprised he had agreed to wear something as casual as her mother's top that so perfectly fit his style. As cute as his regular robe was, it was stiff in all the wrong places, namely his hands and neck. In all the ways it fell over his body in black, he always looked constricted, like some sort of sick prison uniform. In this, though...a familiar favorite loosely fitting another...familiar favorite. It looked so perfect on him that she couldn't imagine herself wearing it ever again. It still hung loosely on her, the hem dragging around her shins. Her mother wasn't the largest, tallest or most buxom woman in the world, but her combined statuesque features let her fill out the shirt in a way that left it sweeping over her hips and hanging at her thighs.

It was one of the few articles of clothing that she fondly remembered her mother wearing, not like the loose tops and short dresses that only seemed to exacerbate their parents' separation. For what was possibly years Spirit would often sneer and growl at what his wife wore whenever they did meet, usually somethting along the lines of, " _Who are you wearing that for?_ " or " _Did you just feel like teasing me today?_ " She could never figure out why Mama gave her that shirt, or why the shirt was invisible to her father's wrath and consternation. For some reason, he didn't mind it on Mama, and he didn't mind letting his daughter have it.

After such a long and tumultuous history, it was almost like the shirt had found a new life, not as an everyday top but as a piece of comfort-clothing, like a vintage hat, a luxurious nightie, or even a prayer scarf. Something with purpose and sentiment. Now it bunched around Crona's shoulders and sank around his collar like...well, like a woman's shirt on a young male mannequin. Through the soft fabric Maka could easily trace little lines around his body, lightly feeling how hot his midsection was, his pulse thumping against his belly somewhere around his gut or liver. Maka almost made a game of trying to find where the pulse was strongest as his stomach heaved up and down against her, but stopped her idle movements when her fingertips ran across a ridge or bump in his midriff, a scar slashing down a floating rib towards his navel. Time stood still as she kept him warm, other ideas of passing the time floating through her head as he snoozed.

He still held an aroma of her own beauty products. With her head nuzzled into his chest she amused herself by counting off the items he must have been dutifully cleaning himself with. She could easily find the faint hint of her moisturizing body wash, grinning to herself as she imagined how his soft, fragile complexion would react to a beauty regimen like that. Locks of his hair fell close to his shoulder, and she could catch a whiff of her own coconut-melon shampoo/conditioner set. She wondered why he was so keen to use all of her bath products. Did he not like the minimal soap and shampoo that Soul used? Was it because _she_ was the one to recommend a shower in the first place? Maybe he just wanted to smell like her? As odd as those ideas were, it was a lot more fun to think about an innocent, bathing Crona scrubbing himself clean than...the Crona she saw last night.

Her face reddened again. Somehow months of hugs, hand-holding and comforting Crona left him on another level from her other friends. She would be affectionate with other friends, most often Soul, but that was more fleeting, more playful. It didn't feel as earnest, somehow. At first she thought is was just that Black Star and Soul were so annoying at times that she couldn't seriously hug them for more than a few seconds. Was there something about Crona's feminine presentation, his at times ignorant innocence, that made her so receptive to him. No...no, it couldn't be that. In the back-burner of her mind stewed the thought that, perhaps, it was Crona's gentleness and cuteness, shyness, and wholesomeness that put her at ease. Even the parts he hated in himself, she found endearing and oh-so-fortunate. She felt lucky to know such a special guy, and her cheeks warmed as she realized just how much it must mean to him. Every now and again she needed to remind herself that she was Crona's first friend, and in many ways, his mentor and delegate to the outside world. She felt the bond between their souls tickle in her tummy as her breath started to match his in a half-asleep daze. She spent a long time listening to him breathe before her weight slid more heavily against his chest, eventually stirring him awake, or something close to awake.

"Mmnh...M-Maka..?" Crona sounded confused, of course. He looked down at the lump in the blanket that seemed to squeeze him in place shyly when he said her name.  
"Oh. G-Good morning..." she murmured against one of her favorite shirts, "S-Sorry if I woke you...sleep well..?"'

He blushed as she hugged onto him, a sweat coming over him again.

"W-What're you doing..?" He groaned, lifting the blanket up slowly, as if the cloth were rigged with a trap.

She blushed and thought on her feet, "You were tossing and turning a lot. I wanted to make sure you'd stay still..." A giggle escaped her, "Plus, I was cold..~" She teased, "And besides...I told you I like this shirt. Maybe I just missed having it around..."

Crona tilted a head quizzically at her jokes. She seemed nervous for some reason, but when he tried to speak with a craned neck, he whimpered out a cough that slightly rumbled in his chest. Maka pouted, and Crona's heart fluttered a little as he felt her nestled face in the fabric curl into a pouting frown against his chest. The fluttering didn't cease as Maka draped her hands over his chest and lifted herself up, eyes shining from under the blanket like a cozy, curious animal in its burrow.

"I think someone may have caught a cold..." She bit her lip and wriggled up his body childishly, causing his eyes to widen as she inched closer to him and dragged her body against his. With every touch his skin ached and flushed a little, and his breathing got slightly ragged as she cupped her hand around his throat.

"Hmm...your glands are swollen." She wasn't choking him, right? Why would she do something like that? Her grip, however, tightened slightly as she sat on top of him.  
"Swallow." She commanded. He gulped, and it hurt. His throat rubbed against her hand. It was only when she looked back into his eyes that she realized how scared he looked when she held onto his throat. She hastily jerked her hand away and started muttering apologies.

"O-Oh gosh, Crona, I'm sorry." She sputtered and stammered, her legs subconsciously squeezing at his sides, keeping his blush fresh and rosy, "T-That's just how I was taught to check for strep throat and stuff like that. I didn't mean to, y'know..."

His gray-blue eyes flitted from her dainty hand to her face, then he lifted his own palm and rubbed at his throat, "I-It didn't hurt..." he coughed again, "I-I just d-don't think I've ever been sick like this b-before..."

She blinked at him and wondered aloud, "I thought living like you did growing up, you'd be used to being sick by now." Her eyes narrowed. "Oh jeez, Crona, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

He piped up a little with a squeak, darting his eyes away and digging his fingers into the couch.

"M-My blood kept me from getting infections w-whenever I was wounded. S-Sometimes I broke a bone that had to heal, but I never got viruses o-or anything l-like that...I-I'd been poisoned before, but-"

He stopped as he felt Maka shift and jerk against him, realizing for a minute how strange a statement it was, "I mean, uhm...s-sometimes..." He learned relatively recently that it's actually not a common practice for a mother to feed their child poison. "L-Lady Medusa would m-make me sick so I could t-toughen up. S-She said that if I learned to deal with little bits of toxins here and there that my body would...learn to accept it. That eventually if some bad person tried to kill me, all the hurting from before would save me, and the poison wouldn't kill me..."

Maka still lied against him, studying his mostly blank expression and repressing the rage snowballing in her stomach. After a few seconds, without her prodding, he started to speak again.

"Th-this doesn't hurt as bad..." He sniffled a little and hic'd a sad gasp in his swollen throat, "I-It only hurts when I swallow...a-and I don't feel as n-nauseous...when it happened before I was throwing up c-constantly, a-and all my insides f-felt on f-fire." He cringed and almost started to cry before shifting a little, sitting up against Maka and reaching out a shaky hand to hers, holding onto her as he swayed dizzily, "N-Now it doesn't hurt so much and...I-I always wanted, uhm..."

He blinked out a few tears, looking up in her eyes. Concern and worry, two emotions he never knew in his previous life, radiated from her like a somber energy. Suddenly something in him snapped and he found himself buried in her bosom, not noticing or caring how Maka's heart skipped or how her surprised breathing pushed against his face, her modest bust cushioning him and absorbing his tears.

"E-Even though it w-was m-mother w-who m-made me sick...I-I was so scared t-that I w-wished...s-she could have..." A massive lump in his throat predicated choked sobs, "E-Even if s-she didn't l-love me, I-I wanted someone t-to hold me w-when I was sick."

The confession cracked the dam past its threshold, and Crona ashamedly spiraled into a collapsing, deflated wreck. Tears burst forth with a mournful symphony of sniveling, apologizing and hyperventilating as his emotional vomit heaved along with his chest. Maka tried to swallow her rage mixed with a twinge of sadness, rubbing at his back softly.

"I-I'm sorry, Crona...what she did to you was beyond horrible. Evil. Malicious and black-hearted and..." She stroked her fingers gently through his head, "Do you still feel that way? Would you feel better while you're sick if someone was with you?"

He lifted his head away from her and his eyes flitted down, "I-It feels...childish...t-to say things like that."

"It's not." She chimed with a correcting tone, "It's fine wanting to feel safe. I've had plenty of bad bouts with illness where...I'm sure if someone was there for me instead of being all alone in my room, I would have recuperated faster. I won't abandon you if you don't want to be alone."

She pressed her head against his to emphasize the point, and he murmured something under his breath, "B-But...what if I'm contagious?"

"I don't care." She grinned at him, letting her eyes close, "I'll have you know my immune system's pretty tough!" She giggled again, hugging against him, "Besides, I promised Stein, Marie and Lord Death that you'd be safe and comfy staying at my place." Crona blushed and sighed a little. He knew she was a very duty-driven woman, "We can do whatever you want, and if you need anything, just tell me! How bout it? Does that sound fun?"

It honestly didn't sound that fun to him, being the center of attention and risking getting Maka sick just because she worried about him. Still, he knew that there was really no saying no to her, and he felt too weak to argue. Besides, maybe she really would be happy with it. He did want to make her happy, right? He nodded with a deep red hue in his cheeks.

"I-I guess that's okay..." He mumbled, something getting caught in his throat at about the end of his statement, forcing a hack and a cough against her.

"Great!" She beamed at him, wanting to put him at ease even as she felt his feverish heat radiate from him, "So, what should we do first?" She sat up a little before noticing how he sank and shrunk away when she asked him directly. "Hmm...alright, mister." She smiled again. "Wanna just stay in bed? Yes or no?" A nod. "Alright, fine. Do you feel like just going back to sleep?" He shook his head 'no,' and she let out a little sigh, falling against him again, "So, what? More cuddling and nature shows?"

She laughed at her own little jest, but softened up when Crona wriggled underneath her and shyly nodded 'yes' to the last suggestion. A grin overtook her as she fell to his side, giving him more than enough room to reach for the remote and turn the TV on. Crona felt her eyes on him and clicked the screen to life. The sound was down and the public-broadcasting channel that seemed dominated with wildlife programming now focused on the placid waters of the French Riviera, with an excited host having a luxurious lunch at a rustic cafe on the bank of the river. Crona didn't have the focus to pay attention to what the man said, but the cameras focused on some very pretty paintings hanging in large corridors. Maka seemed more enthralled than he, but started making a soft humming noise that vibrated against his chest. She was singing something softly to herself, and seemed to curl tightly up against his—or rather, her, shirt. The tune was very catchy and soon was stuck in his head. Crona drifted off slightly again and kept the melody on his mind. Maka seemed to hum through a whole four minutes of music before burying her face into him, feeling suddenly drowsy again.

Both their faces perked up as a news bulletin cut into the documentary footage. Announcing that heavier rains were expected over the next two days, there was a temporary reprieve from the rain for now. Most of the main streets of Death City were plagued with puddles and flooding at around a half-foot in depth. The lowest parts of the city were up to a foot underwater. Maka felt Crona tense up at the prediction of extreme thunderstorms throughout tonight and tomorrow. For however tense Crona was, they both jumped nearly out of their seat when they heard a thud coming from the kitchen. Maka hopped off of her nervous friend and made a start for the kitchen, finding Soul standing over a coffee pot and a gold-foil-wrapped bottle of something cocoa-brown, mixing both into a steamy concoction in a travel mug.

"Hey, there you are." He spoke to his cup loud enough for her to hear, "I was wondering what you were up to. Normally you never let me sleep past ten. How's our guest?" He slipped glass bottle in his large jacket pocket and put the coffee pot back in its spot as he twisted a cap on his drink. Maka was too distracted by what he said to ask about it.

"Wait, what?" She was caught off-guard by the time. She looked at the clock. Eleven-thirty-five, and she felt just as sluggish and out-of-it as she did at dawn. She shook the feeling away and finished her thought, "Uhm, well...I've been kinda busy this morning...I think Crona's sick. He must've caught a cold after running through the rain last night. I haven't heard from Ragnarok in at least...wow, must be...fifteen hours?" She blinked. Soul laughed.

"Wow, that must be a relief. I'm sorry the kid's feeling like shit, but I can't stand that little turd." He sneered and took a quick swig of his drink. Maka furrowed her brow and walked closer to him.

"Soul...What are you drinking?"

"Coffee, duh. There's still some in the pot."

There was a fierce, fiery texture to his breath. Maka recognized it immediately and reached for a cookbook on the shelf. Soul tried to dive out of the way, and although Maka missed with the book, she easily slid her extra hand into his pocket and grabbed the item of interest.

"Hey!" She scoffed at the label, "'Irish Cream?' Soul, where the hell did you get this from?! You better not have been spending the house-money on booze!"

Soul's expression dimmed a little as he was found out, "Hey, cool it, okay? That was a gift! I was hanging with Kid and Black Star yesterday at the death-mansion. Kid was going through his dad's liquor cabinet and throwing out bottles for all kinds of dumb reasons. Black Star and I decided to put some to use and save a few others for the road." He smirked.

Maka looked incredulous, "You're kidding! How in the world does Kid just throw out his dad's booze?"

Soul shrugged, "How do you think? Lord Death doesn't drink much anymore, so Kid thought it was time to reorganize. Apparently the cork on this one was improperly cut. The rounded bottom on Black Star's bottle of bourbon had more grooves on one side than the other."

Maka wanted to laugh or concede for the sake of recognizing the junior shinigami's compulsions in full, but she still wasn't satisfied.

"So why are you drinking that at eleven-thirty in the morning?!"

Soul winced and held his head. "Easy..! Geez, my head's killing me. Ain't you ever heard of that phrase, 'hair of the dog that bit you?' I had to grab a nightcap; I couldn't sleep through all that noise last night. The rain and lightning, and..."  
Maka cocked an eyebrow up and put her hands on her hips, "And what?"

Soul seemed to back down a little, his buzz not helping his headache much, "Well, you two were watching TV well into the night and...It's none of my business, but you guys were really shooting the breeze...I tried to not eavesdrop, but I could tell he was having a rough night. There was, y'know...crying and a lot of fumbling around and stuff."

The two frowned, and Soul did his best to lower his voice. Maka tried to keep her complexion from paling, wondering just how much of their talks he heard.

"You really like him, huh? I know sometimes you feel like you have to fix him, but-"

"But nothing." She said flatly.

"He's...a good guy." Soul admitted, "I like him. He hurts a lot, but you're right, he means well. Really cool temper. I bet without Ragnarok around he's even better, but...still, doesn't he get a little-?"

Maka sighed and looked out the window, "It's very hard, yes. You only hear half of it. Hell, you barely know a hundredth of it. He's been hurt in more ways more times than I can possibly imagine. Besides...I don't feel like I owe him anything," she muttered, her voice dropping, "he just...really deserves all the help he can get."

"But all the help has to come from you?"

"Well, who else?" She almost stomped her foot, clenching her fists, "No-one...understands him-"

"Like you." Soul smiled, almost wearily, "I keep forgetting..."

Maka pouted and her face flushed with slight anger as Soul took another quick swig from his mug before suddenly throwing it at her. She yelped and clumsily caught it in her hands, glaring at him.

"It's gotta be hard work, but you've got that secret weapon. You resonate with him." Soul looked out the window at gray skies, "I thought that was something only meisters and weapons could do."

"Jealous?" Maka raised an eyebrow again, smirking while she held onto his cup, smelling a faint roasted coffee bean aroma mixed with chocolate-infused alcohol. She got a toothy grin for her remark as he shrugged.

"Nahh, jealousy is totally uncool. More curious, I guess. How does he feel?" Maka blushed and Soul laughed, "I mean...what's different between his soul and mine?"

"Firstly," she sneered slightly, "Color, a few dozen Kishin eggs and a ton of difference in trauma." Her smile faltered a little, "He's just...so sweet underneath it all. I guess I'm the only one that sees it, though. Everyone else thinks he's-"

"A demon. Which is just weird! I mean, your dad's a demon weapon, I'm a demon weapon, Tsubaki, Liz, Patty, Ragnarok...It's just, y'know, why do they pick on the obvious meister with such a lame burn? Half that school, or half of death city, isn't entirely human. It's just so uncool!"

He stopped his rambling and realized that the amount of cream-liquor he put in the cup was finally catching up to him. He took a breath and sighed, leaning on the counter in an attempt to look cool again.

"M-My point is...why do people look at him like he's possessed?"

Maka shrugged and replied weakly, "Mmh...might be the demon in his blood."

Soul grimaced and bit his lower lip, "Ouch. Now that's uncool." He stood from the counter and moved toward the other end of the kitchen, looking down into the living room, "Well, if he's sick, you should probably keep an eye on him. He probably 'doesn't know how to deal' with a stuffy nose.

Maka didn't laugh, instead almost shoving Soul's mug back at him.

"Hm?" He twisted on his heel and looked down at it, "Oh..n-nah, I'm good. I think the caffeine is finally taking effect. Mmh..."

Maka shook the cup in his face a little, and he shook his head and his hand at her.

"I said, no! 'Sides, I should've offered you some last night. I just stashed that in my room to keep it away from Blair. Plus, you sound like you needed, or need a drink, more than I do...or did."

He gripped his head, "Ahh, this is so uncool. I really did not mean to get this...toasted. Just wanted to get rid of the hangover...Whew, okay, well, I'm taking some aspirin and walking down to the gas station. It's pretty soaked out there, but we're out of milk, n' some other things."

Maka grinned at him and jokingly punched his arm, "Ahh, Soul! Finally going grocery shopping on your own! What makes you wanna go out in that mess when you're such a mess?"

He sighed, "Part of the reason I was drinking myself to sleep was that damn cat scratching at my window asking why I didn't put out a bowl of milk for her. Never tried to shout through your window, but I guess she knew you wouldn't care. Alright!" His eyes lighted up suddenly, "For real, cool, let's go get some milk. I mean...I'm getting some milk. Lock the door behind me?"

Maka rolled her eyes, " _Sure._ "

Crona rolled around a little on the couch as he heard someone approach. He sat up when he saw Soul saunter into the room.

"Heyyy, bro. Pfft!" Another toothy grin as he fumbled a little putting on his shoes, "Nice P.J.s, dude! Haven't seen that shirt in a while. Glad to see it fits somebody."

He laughed to himself as Crona looked toward the carpet for absolution. Maka didn't hear his comment, leaving Soul safe and secure when he waltzed out the door whistling a little too nonchalantly.

Crona sank back into the couch, holding himself awkwardly and almost boiling in his own skin from embarrassment. He shivered to himself and eventually curled up in the large blouse like a tortoise, his head and arms shrinking inside as he tucked his knees to his chest under the cloth. His frame was wiry enough to the point where he couldn't stretch it if he tried. It was oddly comforting, like an anesthetic, to not feel the brisk ache of bare skin against the open air, to huddle in his own heat.

Maka stood in the kitchen looking over the travel mug and the bottle of liquor. Her views on alcohol had been undoubtedly influenced by Papa's behavior around Mama during both their marriage and separation. Still, most alcohol she was used to seeing didn't look or smell nearly as appetizing. Instead of a sickly haze or a deceptively clear liquor, it was smooth and rich, looking like decadent chocolate milk in an elaborate package. She sighed and put the bottle in the fridge before turning to pour out the mug in the sink. There really wasn't that much left in the coffee pot after all, though…Maka took a chance on it and poured the rest of hot coffee into the cup, the liquor dissipating to a lower concentration but still complementing the brew with a chocolate note. She took a heavy swig and almost wanted to hold her nose, but was surprised at how smoothly it went down. She shuddered and put the mug down, deciding against finishing the cocktail and returning to the living room.

Maka felt a slight buzz overcome her, energized from the bold caffeine that still lingered on her lips. When she saw Crona's turtle-esque lump on the couch, she walked over and tapped him on the head.

"Knock, knock. You okay?"

"Nnh...S-Soul just walked by."

She frowned, "Oh...did he see your outfit?"

A nod. "And what? He thought it was weird?"

He sighed and shook a little, "I just felt...s-self conscious again. A-Are you sure you're okay with me wearing your clothes?"

She grinned and sighed a little, "Of course I'm okay with it. But if you don't like them...~"

His cheeks burned when he heard her tone of voice and he yelped when he felt her suddenly lift at the shirt. He covered his chest as he was suddenly stripped, scrambling to cover himself with the blanket.

She snickered, "Aww, no fair...~" She sighed, feeling an odd heady sensation. It was almost like the haze of black blood. Was this drunkenness?

"Hey! Quit trying to rape the dumbass!"

She lost her smile immediately as Crona shot up on the couch, the blanket falling away as a familiar inky head rolled around on his bare chest, ruining the image of him at his most vulnerable yet.

Ragnarok's voice was harsh, and his head crawled around on a wispy trail emanating from Crona's chest. His eyes were almost frosted over and he groaned as he spoke.

"Ughh, you're such a pervert!" Maka felt totally flustered, but sighed in defeat, "Okay, fine, you're right, I was just trying to have some fun."

She sighed a little and threw the shirt back at him, looking at the floor, "You shouldn't care what Soul thinks. He's being an ass today. But...you can change clothes if you want to. Your outfit from yesterday is washed."

Ragnarok cut in, wriggling around on Crona's torso like a horror monster, "What about foooood!?" he hissed. Maka realized then that they had totally neglected to eat last night, instead merely chatting into unconsciousness on the couch. She could tell by the look on his face that Crona wasn't the hungriest person in the room, but she thought if she appeased Ragnarok, then maybe he'd leave Crona to rest and hopefully stop insulting her. Although part of her enjoyed seeing Ragnarok so deflated and weak in his sickness, the shrillness of his voice was even more annoying than usual. She promised the two conjoined boys a plate of food and marched back into the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

**First ever author's notes:**

 **Hey y'all! So far the response to this story has been pretty great, which kinda blows me away. Apparently our otp is stronger than I thought. Which made me all the more ashamed to be at least a solid twelve hours behind on this update than I would have liked. Anyway, this chapter reinforces the psychological aspect of Crona's upbringing once again, and features some pretty explicit talk about sex organs (spoiler). This fic's rated M for a reason, after all.**

Maka stood over the stove with a skillet of eggs bubbling on the fire. As much as she hated to admit it, enough time spent around Ragnarok gave her plenty of ideas of his appetite and cravings. Meat products or sweets, that seemed to be all he ate. To that end, she had another pan full of sausage that had been lightly caramelized and a pot next to that full of buttery oatmeal cooking down with a touch of maple syrup. After leaning over to grab an apron to cover her pajamas she began serving the sausage and eggs on platters, a small saucer for herself and a larger plate for Crona and Ragnarok. She decided to let the oatmeal cook some as she returned to the living room.

Crona's nose turned up at the smell of food before his eyes met hers. Her gaze seemed to glitter as their eyes locked. She set two steaming plates of food over on their coffee table.

"Someone hungry?" She chimed at him. Crona almost shook his head in response, but his stomach roared grumpily. He blushed and looked down at his socks as he scooched on the couch closer to the plate. His stomach still felt funny and he wasn't sure how hungry he was for eggs and sausage. Ragnarok split a small cavity in Crona's chest, falling out onto the table weakly.

"G'ahhh, finally! Stupid bitch can never cook anyway. Soon as my head stops spinning I'm gonna get even with that sow."

Ragnarok looked up and saw Maka glaring with wrath as her fists clenched. With one of his only lucid, fluid motions in the last day, he splayed himself out on the plate and wrapped his emaciated frame around all of the sausage patties on the plate, his jaw dislocating in a manic smile as he absorbed all the meat in their serving before disappearing inside his chest again.

Maka blinked angrily and Crona pouted meekly, sighing to himself. He jumped as Maka suddenly grabbed his shoulders and shook him, rattling him a bit.

"Being sick isn't a license to be a greedy dick!" She shrieked, "Aagh! Why does he even antagonize everyone like that? Part of me doesn't want him getting any better..."

Crona looked away and she calmed herself somewhat.

"I'm sorry..."

"What? No, Crona...I'm sorry!" She sighed, "I just...I can't imagine having someone that boorish around...all the time...everywhere. Here." She slip some of her sausage onto his plate. Crona muttered something in thanks and grabbed his fork, slowly digging into his plate at last.

He ate slowly, breaking small pieces of sausage and egg white and carefully sticking small forkfuls into his mouth. Maka watched as he chewed silently, carefully, swallowing with a slight iota of pain in his throat.

"H-He's wrong..." He muttered, his eyes flitting around the room a little.

"Hm?" Maka raised her head to him, slurping a strip of egg into her mouth. Crona flushed a little. She was very good-mannered, of course, but he noticed that at home or in private she was much more casual and...as strange as it sounded for someone like her, lazy in her own way. Dots of grease marked around the dimples when she gave him a friendly smile, rubbing her face with a napkin.

"I mean...you can cook. You just did." He took a little nibble of sausage, feeling the red meat go down heavily. His was distracted from his indigestion by Maka's curt giggle.

"C'mon, Crona, you know he means that I can't cook _well._ " She intoned with a teasing voice, trying to own the accusation.

"But you just did." He repeated flatly, his cheeks flushing as he felt her gaze on him as he closed his eyes to carefully chew and swallow a runny egg yolk.

"Aww, you little charmer!" She teased, trying to divert her own embarrassment from his simple compliment. "You really mean that? I just guessed that Ragnarok would like eggs over-easy and sausage. He seems to be really...carnivorous, yeah?"

He nodded, "Mnh...yeah." He finished his eggs and touched him napkin formally against his lips. Maka's smile weakened as he fell back into silence, staring at his empty plate. She filled it by moving closer to him and offering to take his plate, but he suddenly stood and stopped her, grabbing his plate and utensils and turning to her.

"I-I wasn't sure how to say it b-because I don't..y'know...it's like…I haven't eaten a lot of eggs or sausage in my life. Sometimes a lot of the tastes are...still new. I think the only eggs I've had were the ones in the dining area a-at school. They're just all yellow and fluffy."

She smiled and sighed a little, "I see. Well, if you're still hungry, I have something else still on the stove that might be good for your cold!"

Crona nodded along for the sake of her smile. He sometimes couldn't tell the intent of Maka's many smiles, but the one of proud accomplishment was pretty unmistakable. It usually coincided with something silly like throwing her fist in the air or crossing her heart triumphantly, or at her most wild and extreme moods, flexing and 'polishing' her bicep. Years with Ragnarok had undoubtedly told Crona that bullying was wrong, but sometimes there was something about Maka's bravery and authority that was endlessly endearing. She was like some fairy godmother or a matron saint of friendship, intelligence, kindness and beauty rolled into one. Wait, beauty, really? Well...maybe. She used that word for him, right? It was okay to call a friend beautiful, she made that clear. She said uniqueness was part of beauty so that–

"Here you gooo~"

Crona was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Maka leave, nor notice the clatter of dishes as she brought out two hot bowls of oatmeal, decked out with a variety of fruits and spices. A spoon stood upright in her perfectionist presentation, which beckoned Crona to, in his own nervous impulse, stir around the spoon and mix together all the requisite parts, "I-I've never had this before...um...oh." He brought a spoonful closer to his eyes which widened a little, "I-It's like gruel...right?"

Maka blinked and leaned a little closer to him, pretending to study his spoonful with the same level of interest he did.

"Well, no, gruel is...much, much thinner. Thinner than porridge. This is oatmeal."

He nodded as if he needed to prove he understood the word, "I-I see...do you add all the spices a-and fruits and stuff because it doesn't taste good?"

Maka frowned and wagged a spoon at him with an air of discipline, "Heyyy, rude! Neither of us have had a bite yet."

When Crona opened his mouth for an apology, Maka shifted closer in one quick movement, sliding her hand past his and pushing his spoon in his mouth.

"And no," she concluded, "you add all that stuff in because it cooks into it and makes it taste even better."

He blinked, then nodded knowingly, swallowing with a little steamy hic.

"A-Ahh-h!...h-hot…" he sputtered, pouting a little before taking slower bites.

Maka was secretly very happy that Crona kept up a good appetite. His stomach proved to be weak at times, and insofar as she washed the dishes he seemed to...genuinely love, in his own way, the food he was getting. Even through a flu she could feel the eagerness in his soul without hearing the hunger in his stomach. As she washed the dishes and thought about any later possible meals, Soul returned at last, with company.

"Hiyooo~" Blair purred, "Soul, you're so sweet for taking me in before the big, bad rainstorms come back."

Maka's forehead pulsed as she heard that familiar singing and cooing throughout her house. She stomped her way down the hallway, only to be caught off guard as usual by her chatty and catty nature.

"Hiii, girlfriend..~" Blair smiled weakly, "I-I really like your pajamas! I'd love to try them on sometime...but wow, they're already so tight on you~! Just imagine what they'd look like on me, right~? Ahah!"

Soul grimaced at her and yanked on her flitting tail, "Hey! You promised!"

Blair pouted and transformed into her unassuming feline form, scampering down the hall slightly. Soul turned to Maka and smiled.

"I'll be let back in if I promise to stay in my room and not cause any fuss with Crona and Maka. No funny talk, no touching, no nothing!" The cat paraphrased and sneered at the boy in a petty way while Crona pretended she wasn't there.

"Come on, you tramp." Soul muttered, still half-buzzed from earlier as he put groceries on the kitchen table, leading Blair into his room and almost slamming the door shut. Maka rolled her eyes at the two, often wishing she could just be rid of Blair entirely. Her magic was barely useful, and on a good day she was out working or…"working" most of the time to stay out of their hair. It seemed like the floods were souring everyone's usual plans. Speaking of plans…

Maka at that point remembered the promise she made to Crona and made her way back to the couch, thinking about Soul's promise to stay out of her and Crona's business. Was Soul trying to suggest something? Did he just think Crona didn't need the stress of Blair, or did he think Crona deserved to spend time with Maka? She sat down and studied him. He seemed to have totally zoned out, his hands over his lap, looking down at the ground. She leaned in closer and smiled as she lied against his heat, even if he had a fever. His gut rumbled in some kind of distress, and when she heard it she giggled lightly and growled softly against him in response.

"Grorrr~"

Crona jumped again and Maka gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"You're very sweet when you find the words, y'know." She smiled against his side, "I think you've said the sweetest things about my cooking I've ever heard. Thanks...So! Hey! Remember our deal earlier~?"

Crona's eyes shrank a little and he shook his head out of surprise.

"Of course you do silly...~ More cuddles and nature shows, right?"

She giggled mischievously and tickled at his sides, forcing him to smile a little as he eventually settled back into a comfortable position against her. They both reached out for the remote at the same time and tittered nervously like children. Hanging out with Crona was always such a...pure experience. Whenever she was together with him, it was hard to not see him as the fragile young boy in his soulscape, and for her to see herself as the similar little girl offering her hand of friendship. His emotions were so pure, his thoughts so considerate, sometimes their bond made her think he was a longtime friend from her youth. Instead they had barely known each other a year, and even with all their antagonism in the beginning, they were inseparable after the Kishin Asura was re-sealed. At this point in their young lives, Maka couldn't imagine being without him, and she was sure he felt the same way.

The public-broadcasting channel had gotten back into the swing of wildlife and nature documentaries. Maka seemed to smile a little wider as the narrator for the next segment spoke.

"Up next, on Wild World, go inside the den and see the fascinating world of the Laughing Hyena!"

Crona had never heard of such an animal, and the first impression the cameraman offered seemed to stun him. A furry, spotted wild beast sprinting through the grasslands of Sub-Saharan Africa. Crona wasn't sure if it was a cat or a dog. The narrator answered some of his questions for him.

"The Spotted Hyena, or, Laughing Hyena, is the most common large carnivore on the continent, and with its large groups and complex social behaviors, stands as the most social carnivore in existence. But don't be fooled, even though they live in large groups, they are not a cooperative family."

The creature ran over a hill and was seen tumbling down into a den filled with others of its kind, some larger with faded fur, and some smaller with more prominent spots.

"Spotted hyenas are distinguishable from any other hyena species due to their spotted pelt, rounded ears, general bear-like build, and a less prominent mane."

"Heh," Maka laughed and leaned her head closer to his chest, reaching across him for a throw pillow to put between them, "Never knew all that before. I just thought hyenas were cool because of Lion King."

"What's that?" Crona asked almost reflexively.

"Oh...uh...It's a Disney movie. They make cartoon movies with a lot of, like...animals and singing and stuff." She smiled a little and nuzzled her chin into a throw-pillow, "I used to watch them all the time when I was little. I think I still know some of the songs by heart..." That was a bit of a lie; she knew almost every soundtrack by heart, even the instrumentals, note-for-note.

"Oh..." Crona thought he saw a logo for that company before, but he didn't spend much time watching movies or even television. The most TV he watched was, well, on this couch, at Maka's house. She never minded his devotion to the public-broadcasting networks, in fact his eagerness to learn through entertainment was one of the most admirable things about him.

"If you want, we could watch some of them later. I think I still have all my old tapes..." She admitted almost shyly.

"S-Sure..." Crona sank into the couch a little, trying to force himself into relaxation, even if he was rapt with attention towards the screen.

"Hyena dens are fiercely competitive. Every position in their hierarchy is determined by dominance." The narration was laid over footage of hyenas snapping at each other to fight over carrion, "But unlike some such competitive societies, the spotted hyena is matriarchal to an extreme. Clans of hyenas are decidedly matrilineall. The women outsize the men and have no trouble asserting their position of power. They rear their own cubs with no aid from their male partners outside of mating, and they do not tend to look after anyone's cubs but their own. At around two or three years of age, a male will be encouraged to leave its den in search of another clan to be patron of, adding his stock to their gene pool and living a similarly put-upon life as a male in a new family."

Crona wondered how all these groups of animals could stay together through such tough living. He knew how violent and scary women could be, raised by an unloving witch as he was, but to think that he, as a hyena, would have to spend his entire life groveling and seeking approval from one denmother only to escape and only be taken in by another...well, wait, isn't that what he already did? He submitted to everyone in his life, but that included Marie (who was incredibly keen, with some convincing towards Stein, to attempt to be his new parental role-model and "adopt" him under the hammer-lady and mad doctor), Nurse Naigus (a temporary confidant and at-times therapist for things he would rather not discuss with Marie), and of course there was his inability to overcome Blair's advances without outside help from…

Then it struck him. He never escaped his den. He never had a pecking order in his clan. He was always the runt, tormented and abused by his "family," but he never even escaped. Maka practically picked him up and shoulder-carried him out of Medusa's sphere of influence, and even then, he betrayed his new family at DWMA out of fear for retribution from his mother. Maka adjusted herself on the couch, moving the throw-pillow aside and limply throwing her arm over his lap.

"Gahh, I hate when my arm falls asleep like this." She sighed, letting her numb, noodly limb wiggle lamely against his stomach, "I can't feel a thing..."

Crona grinned a little at her movements, slowly reaching a hand down to tentatively touch on her arm. Her forearm was cool to the touch and blood slowly thudded against her lean muscles as feeling returned to her hand. She, like him, Crona realized, had an incredibly tight reserve of muscles between her elbow and wrist, her grip exercised taut and steady over years as a scythe-meister. He thought of her strength, shyly remembering how she lightly squeezed his throat with little effort, and gently draped his hand down to hold hers. She didn't stop him.

"Female hyenas will nip or mount any unwanted males to keep them in line, which is good, because hyenas do not pair bond, nor do they have a dedicated mating season. Males will never force themselves on females, and not just for fear of retribution from the den-leaders. In fact, specialized sex organs physically prevent the possibility of rape."

Crona blinked and his cheeks reddened. He thought he felt himself squeeze at Maka's hand, hoping the feeling hadn't entirely returned to her arm yet as he listened and watched as the documentary dove in a slightly different direction. A woman identified as a "Hyaenidae specialist and behavior researcher" was being interviewed on the biology of the animals.

"In the mammalian class of animals, dominance is often equated to, if you'll pardon my language, the phallus." She cleared her throat, "Some mammals will have widened hips and obvious slits to display their fertility, but rarely do you see females with engorged clitori, as a display of power and aggression. In the spotted hyena, however, femininity adapted to overcome the threat of the male sex in a very competitive and violent society."

The language was still technical enough for Crona to not be overcome with nervousness, but this was something he didn't expect to learn today. Was this always the kind of stuff they played on daytime TV? He wriggled on the couch slightly and Maka felt him rub his body against her.  
"Women are born with an external set of false genitalia: a female's clitoris is shaped and positioned like a male's phallus, capable of erection, and contains a single canal that the female uses for urinating, copulation and birthing. She lacks an external vaginal opening because her labia fuse together to form a false scrotum, the only species in the mammal class with such an adaptation. When it comes time for the female to select a mate, even more norms of mammalian reproduction are thrown out the window."

There was an image on screen of a smaller hyena walking up to a larger one, which Crona had learned to assume was a female. The hyena started lifting a leg and rolling in the dirt submissively.

"A potential mate will signal permission in a way that is again unique among some social mammals. Rather than an image of virility, strength and dominance, an erection in the male is taken as a sign of subservience and capitulation, and some females have been seen choosing the smaller males over the more noticeably-endowed ones, while her much larger, flaccid clitoris is a sign of assertion and control."

Maka was learning just as much about one of her favorite animals as Crona. She turned to look him in the eyes, but his gray-blue orbs were locked on the screen. He seemed slightly tense, but wasn't hiding or blushing nearly as much as he did when more suggestive content was being discussed among friends. Soul had mentioned what a stuttering wreck Crona was whenever Black Star went off about his plans to "get some tail from the cuter girls at school," which were luckily rare talks, as Black Star knew at least to not talk like that around the girls, especially Tsubaki.

"Hey," she started, sitting up a little and flexing her fingers against his hand. Crona shook a little as he realized she could feel him holding her hand, but relaxed a little when he realized she wasn't letting go, "so...what are you thinking about?"

Crona blushed deeper and twiddled his thumb against the back of her hand, "I-I think it's...i-interesting. I-It's kinda n-nice..." he blurted, his blush growing redder.

That got him a raised eyebrow in response, "What is?"

"Well...I know a lot of boy animals have to try to b-be special to get a girl's attention, l-like peacocks or other birds. O-Or us...boys having to f-flirt and be a-all forward and j-junk...E-Even if hyenas don't s-stay together...i-it must be sorta interesting to have g-girls in charge and not have boys h-having to seduce them...I-I really don't understand how s-some boys act..."

She smiled and cut off his train of thought when she ruffled his lavender hair with her free hand, "Heh, yeah, I guess that would be kind of nice, if guys could just back off and let us know...when they're open to it." She giggled shyly, squeezing her legs together instinctively, "I-I just don't know if I can see myself being...built like that."

Crona blinked and nodded, "I-I s-still don't see h-how that works...I thought boys and girls had to be b-built different…"  
Maka gave him an innocent grin and intoned scientifically, "Well, actually..~ I think we all start out as girls, y'know? In the womb?"

Crona blinked again, his imagination attempting to think back that far. He never remembered being in a womb or being born, and at first he thought that was because mother—er, Lady Medusa, claimed she "created" him and never gave birth to him. But as it turned out, nobody had memories from when they were that small.

"S-So...I was a girl once?"

Maka noticed the confusion in his voice, "Well..yeah! All boys are, for a little while at least. I mean, we're not much of anything at first. It's just in our chromosomes. Heh...But boys, uh...get their parts from girl parts, y'know? They kinda...correspond. Like the, uh…c-clitoris and phallus." She tried to use formal vocabulary to put him at ease, but Crona still seemed red in the face.

"S-So..." he finally answered after some time in his own thoughts, "boys and girls...aren't really that different after all?" Maka nodded.

The "medical books" he had memories of viscerally described and labeled every part of the male and female reproductive system. Crona had spent a large part of his childhood with that x-ray image of his own organs burned into his mind as a defense against any accusations that he was a girl. He once naively thought he'd be able to use that information against Lady Medusa, but the only time he had insisted he was a boy, Medusa corrected him with a rod that caned him close to his groin. She scoffed and barked at him, "You are what I say you are. And right now, you're a mistake."

Maka noticed that Crona's eyes shimmered a little and she let out a sigh. Arrested development seemed like another one of Stein's cruelly technical descriptions of a far more complicated issue, but maybe he was right. Crona was created as a living weapon, with no sense of greater purpose beyond being a vector of violence. He understood life in its relation to death, and in his reformation he seemed to constantly crave more and more knowledge about everything before that. The childhood he missed, the meaning of adolescence and maturing, the nature of things in their adult stages, plants, animals, and people. He was especially gracious around the absolute eldest people he seemed to meet, and she didn't know if it was just his shyness or really a sense of respect. He loved learning about animals and history and culture, expanding his world little by little. It was the quickest and easiest way to help him with his anxieties about the outside world, as big and scary and unknown as it was sometimes.

Which is why she did her best to understand that what little knowledge he was raised with was meant to mislead and shock him. The spawn of a witch would undoubtedly be raised to fear femininity and ostracize masculinity, but the level of torment he went through was beyond ludicrous. She turned down the television and changed channels to one of the cable-package "music stations" Soul insisted they pay for. Soft, jazzy piano music played as she inched closer, gently cupping her palms over his welling eyes and then rubbing down his cheeks to form a grin for him before merely splaying her fingers over the collar of his shirt as he shuddered.

"Nh...come on, Crona…" she almost whispered into his ear, drumming her fingers into his shaky chest, "Tell me what's goin' on, huh? What are you thinking about?"

"I just...I..." He sighed and pressed his sleeve against his face, cheeks flushing as the fabric absorbed his tears, "I-I was never t-told anything like that...s-sometimes I think...i-it's not fair that everyone and everything else seems to...have it all figured out. All b-because Medusa liked t-tricking me into th-thinking r-really stupid things..."

Maka nodded against his neck and let her nose be tickled by mauve tresses, "We all think stupid things, though, Crona..it's part of growing up. Everyone gets confused sometimes. Not everybody had it as bad as you, but...I'm here to help you learn, right? If you ever have any questions, you can talk to me."

He blinked out a few more tears and nodded, pushing the bad memories to the back of his mind.

"But," she added with a smile, bumping her head against his playfully, "If you actually bothered to do enough research to be sure you were a boy, you probably know yourself better than a lot of other people."

He blushed, "D-Do you r-really think so..?"

"Sure!" She shrugged plainly and gave him a hug, "And again, if there's something you wanna know, I can probably help...but...only if you want to talk about that stuff."

Crona nodded almost obediently, which Maka found amusing given his proclaimed appreciation for hyena culture. They sat there for at least a minute in silence, listening to the music and holding each other. After a while Maka decided to take the initiative and think of another activity,

"So, uh..." she wriggled around, planting her hands on his shoulders and sitting up again, "would you maybe wanna watch a movie?"

Crona gave her a bit of a grin and a shrug with a nod punctuating it. Maka told him that he could pick anything he wanted from the collection under the TV stand, but stood from the couch when she explained that she'd have to retrieve the VCR from a box hidden in her closet. As Crona woozily stood and almost fumbled slightly reaching down for the drawer of DVDs and tapes, Maka shut her door and contemplated locking it. She struggled out of her tight pajamas and looked for something else to wear, grabbing her phone off her desk as she waved her arm through shirts and outfits in her closet. Sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder as she stood in her underpants.

The dial tone buzzed in her ear a few times as she looked over a dress she liked before giving up and walking over to her bed.

"Hello?" A cough. Maka must have caught him in the middle of a cigarette.

"Dr. Stein? Er—Professor Stein?" She never knew what title to call him.

"Class is canceled." He replied dully.

"N-No, this is Maka." She clarified, "I wanted to check in with you and Marie about Crona."

"Oh. Right. The boy." She heard an angry cough over the tinny reception, "Heh, sorry...dear. _Our_ boy." He let out a giggle that was unlike his usual mad laughter. It honestly sounded like a chuckle that Spirit would use to accentuate a lame dad-joke. Maka almost laughed with him if it weren't so unexpected. There was a rustling over the line as Marie grabbed the phone.

"Hello? Maka?" Marie almost shouted.  
"Yes! Yes, Marie, I'm here!" She almost shouted back at her, leaning the phone away from her ear as she laid across her bed.

"S-Sorry..." At times Crona reminded her of Marie, sometimes it was the other way around. She was, in a lot of ways, a great mother figure. She had her flaws, but she really tried. Stein was another story entirely, but Maka suspected he would come around eventually to at least not threatening to dissect and experiment on him.

"N-No, I'm sorry." Maka reassured her, "How are you guys?"

"We're fine, how's Crona? Everything okay over there? No problems?"

Maka winced a little and sighed, "Well, actually...When Crona came home last night, he came down with some kind of cold. Ragnarok got really sick too." She could hear Stein muttering something to a suddenly distraught Marie.

"O-Of course...it's just a little cold, right?" Maka assured her, and Marie continued, "Well, it's that...Stein says Crona's immune system has to work overtime. Ragnarok exists as a soul confined to his blood by dark magic. It doesn't mean he's immune to illness, on the contrary, he has no immune system, only existing off of what flows through Crona's black blood. It means he carries the sickness just as heavily, if not more, than Crona. He's probably suffering it the hardest. It may even be that Ragnarok is the one who's contagious, and not Crona. Wait...honey, I don't think that makes sense..."

They grumbled to each other a little before Maka coughed on the other end, "Uhm...can I ask you something else, Marie? Alone?"

Marie knew that not every chat, even ones involving the boy, needed Stein's commentary, and Stein had learned to not fight her when she wanted to keep a secret or two from a mad doctor. Who wouldn't? She adjusted her eyepatch band around her ear as she stood with the phone, walking back inside the building and listening more intently to Maka's question as Stein finished his cigarette.

"I was just...talking a lot with Crona lately, y'know?"

Marie nodded and realized that Maka couldn't see it, "Uh, yeah. I-I know. He talks about you a lot..." she admitted shyly, "Uhm...I don't think he'd want you to know that...but I don't think there's anything wrong with it, right? You're his best friend."

Marie was so kind, but Maka was still at least a little surprised. Had Crona opened up enough to really talk to Marie and Stein regularly, or was it the typical "speak when spoken to" attitude he had around everyone else? She should have guessed that Marie would label her his best friend, but her chest still fluttered a little. She tried to disregard it with another observation.

"W-Well, uh...thank you for calling him a boy, you and Stein." Maka blurted, feeling foolish, "I mean...he gets teased a lot and if I'm honest...sometimes I think he and other people are...genuinely confused sometimes."

Marie sighed and tapped her finger on the back of her phone, "Well, Maka, we...still don't know exactly for sure." Maka was about to shout a rebuttal. "Let me explain," Marie muttered, "Stein doesn't just think he had a bad childhood...he really isn't like other boys. I mean...we've confirmed, f-from a medical standpoint, that he's...male, from a gonadal point of view." Marie sputtered a little, feeling embarrassed, "But Stein...he thinks that Crona identifies as male, but may be...intersex. We haven't tested for anything like chromosomal abnormalities or gonad malformation, or infertility, but...we believe he hasn't gone through regular male pubescence...and it's not because he's a late bloomer."

Marie and Maka sighed at the same time.

"We...haven't told him any of that. We don't think he needs-"

Maka butted in a little, "N-Nah, you're right. He's a boy. He really believes that. Not a lot of people have told him so, but...thank you for validating him. It means a lot more to him than I think Stein realizes."

Marie thanked her and went on to recommend a few regular herbs for cold relief, especially given the muggy weather. It wasn't the talk Maka had hoped to have about how much Crona was taught about his own body, but she certainly learned a lot. She let Marie go without much else to talk about and threw her phone to the other side of her bed. She lifted her head and thought about what she would have asked even if the conversation didn't get quite as derailed, but couldn't come up with anything. She wondered if Marie knew just how much of a confidant Maka was being, and if they as his 'family' had any objection to how close they were getting. She knew Spirit would be furious but she also knew that Spirit wouldn't understand that she put it upon herself to look after him while he was sick. Stein probably didn't think much of it, or he could be slightly suspicious. Marie was hard to read, her politeness a perfect mediator between her thoughts and the rest of the world. Regardless of what everyone else thought, however, she knew that it was her own prerogative to make him happy. Her other feelings weren't quite so clear.


	5. Chapter 5

Maka didn't realize how long she lied spreadeagled on her bed in her bra and panties. Her thoughts swam slightly as she wriggled her legs against the open air, dismissing the mission of picking an outfit for the rest of the day. Crona...the both of them had already discussed his "maleness," and even his new "parents" saw him as a boy, but they warned her of something she'd never thought of before. Crona...intersex. Not exactly male. But what did Marie mean by "gonadally male," or "not going through regular puberty?" She always knew he was different from other boys, but this was different. Was she this concerned for and friendly with someone who might be...partly a girl or something? Or worse, was Crona still prepubescent in some ways? Was she taking advantage of someone who was still, for all intents and purposes, a child?

No. No, no, no, he can't be a child. The Crona she saw, the Hyde-like sleepwalker desperate for affection, that was more than a confused little boy. Her mind and, in a way, her body both ached to know the truth, but the longer she thought about him the more she worried about how long she left him alone in the living room. She stretched her legs and stood on her feet, feeling a lazy sort of preoccupation with her thoughts that kept her from changing clothes. She almost wanted to put her pajamas back on. But wearing yesterday's underpants is so gross, especially with how she's been…

" _D-Damn it..._ " She hissed to herself as she felt a tickle in her groin. Even remembering how breathtakingly unexpected that moment of intimacy was stirred some kind of excitement in her. Part of her wondered if he even remembered the dreams he had, if there was something concrete to his desires. She froze in place alone in her room, slowly taking off her bra and sliding off her plain white panties, crying out another curse against herself for dampening and slightly soiling her underwear. Why was she so suddenly sensitive? Her previous history with boys had left her with so little to fawn over. Now, all this surprising affection from Crona endeared him to her, and the incident with his…-

There was another pulse in her nethers as she remembered it more vividly. The needing way he gripped her and pressed himself to her unconsciously. Even through his bittersweet excessive apologies, accidentally revealing more of his fractured past, she only wanted him more. People thought of her as his keeper, as if she had him on a leash. Only those most ignorant of the wrath of the Maka-chop would dare to insinuate that they were a couple. Unlike almost every other guy she knew, the bond she had with Crona was too genuine to worry about the frustration of sexual advances in one way or another. But maybe...someone like him really deserved to experience that kind of thing. She knew they were especially close, but she felt dirty for examining his body in the way she did. The little glances she got at his bulge tenting his shorts, the roundness to his rump and hips, the softness to his eyes, hair, face and lips. Marie was probably right about the puberty thing, though...wherever she looked, she couldn't remember ever seeing a tuft or strand of male body hair on him. He was like a classical statue, a work of art uniquely devoid of what some might consider vulgarity.

Maka stood in her bedroom and grazed her arms over her chest as she once again stared down her open closet. She attempted to contain her arousal with clenched teeth as she looked over her choices in clean laundry. Her idea of comfortable and casual was a loose T-shirt and a pair of synthetic-fabric athletic shorts, paired with a tomboyish pair of small boxer-shorts underneath. She looked herself over in her mirror a couple times, wondering for a minute if it was too revealing for her to wear this with no bra, but…she was staying in tonight, and it was Crona...besides, not only was she feeling adventurous, she also felt that she...owed him in a way for the view he gave her last night. In a way, it was in the name of research: to see if she could inspire him any with her...unimpressive body. She huffed a little and saw her modest chest rise and fall, then shot up in a panic when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Eep! Uh...j-just a minute." She looked at herself once more and adjusted her shirt before opening the door. Crona stood in the hallway with a few movies tucked in his arms, and his eyes immediately fluttered over her new outfit.

"U-Uhm...hi. A-Am I interrupting you? I-I was wondering if you found that thing you were talking about..."

She blushed as he reminded her, "Oh! I'm sorry, Crona, I got distracted. I was just changing clothes and...well...anyway, uh...do you want to come in?" She smiled graciously and swung her door open. Her room was mostly immaculate except for the bundle of clothes near her closet, and her pajamas that still lied on her bed, along with…

He lost his color as he stepped inside, and Maka noticed the issue. She tried to laugh it off, and wasn't sure if she succeeded or not.

"Ahah, s-sorry, I should put my dirty laundry away, huh? But hey, no big deal, right?" She grinned bashfully as she gathered up her sleepwear and underpants, "I mean, hey, t-they're just underwear...N-Not like I haven't seen yours! Heh..."

Crona stiffened at the memory, a rush of blood floating up to his face and staying there. He watched her bend over her hamper and bury her undergarments in a hill of fabrics. Maka was slightly surprised to find him looking at her in such a way when she stood and turned around, but was more complimented than anything. She raised an eyebrow as if she couldn't believe he would check her out, and the way he flitted his eyes to the wall made her think her assumptions may be right. She walked to him and took his hand, leading him to the bed and motioning for him to sit.

"I just thought," she chimed, her legs lightly jiggling as she skipped to her door to close and secretly lock it behind her, "I've got a little TV with a VHS player built in. It's hiding up in the back of my closet somewhere, so once we get it down, we can just watch in here, okay?"

Crona nodded along, not really putting together the cozy idea of watching a movie together from her bed until she heaved a cardboard box down from a high shelf and plopped the square-ish older color TV on the foot of the bed, plugging it into the wall. She turned the lights off and bounced back onto the bed in swift movements. Crona's head flushed with something beyond his feverish dizziness, but in his sickness everything seemed so dreamy and relaxed. He didn't have the mental clarity to be too anxious. The skies outside seemed to grow a little darker as the TV hummed to life, bathing the two of them in a blue glow as Maka reached forward to grab the tapes and fumble with the controls.

"Alright...channel three. Heh, I haven't done this since a sick day back in junior high..." she smiled and wriggled a little as she moved over to the tapes near the player. Crona bit his lip as her body swayed this way and that. Her new outfit was almost complementary to the old one. Whereas before her pajamas were tight and bright white, Crona shied away from examining the outfit at all out of embarrassment. The fabric clung to her form and made every curve and shape much more obvious. Now, these casual shorts and a shirt reminded him of his own outfit. He wondered if he needed to change back into his other clothes, or if Maka wanted him to find something else to wear. She gave him a sincere smile as she crawled back up to their end of the bed, sifting through the different titles in her arms.

"So, you haven't seen any of these before?" Crona shook his head, "Oh, well, I hope the tapes are still good! Which one do you want to start with first?"

Crona looked down and tried to remember why he picked out the films he did, before remembering the reason for at least one of those plastic cases. He pointed at a movie with a familiar church on the cover.

"Th-That one...uh..." He blushed and looked away, "M-My memory isn't..the best, but...I think I've been there before..."

She blinked at the box and opened it up, "Oh, okay! I really like this one. It's based on an old book. Uhm..." She looked down at the VHS tape and back at him, "The book is a lot...more mature and dramatic, and there's no singing. Heh..."

Maka put the tape in and crawled over to Crona's side, thinking on what he said. She had a brief flashback to when they first met. The fear, the trepidation...the absolute disbelief. Someone so gentle and so kind, annihilating sixty human souls in one bout, standing alone in that grand cathedral. But...that was Italy. When was Crona ever in France?

"So...you've been there before?" Maka tried to make small talk while old previews and trailers for twenty-year-old films played on the screen.

"Uhm..." Crona shifted in his seat, "W-When I was very young...o-one of the first times I-I was let out by myself...with Ragnarok. L-Lady Medusa could always s-sense my presence, b-but it was nice to..n-not literally b-be watched."

Crona felt a very vivid memory overtake him, and he compulsively reached for the remote, scrambling over Maka's legs to snatch it and flit his eyes around the display in the dark to find the pause button.

"I-I remember now...I...she..." He took a breath, somehow knowing in the back of his mind that he needed to let it off his chest before the movie starts, lest his memories spoil a new experience.

Maka looked a little surprised at his sudden movements but smiled when he started to speak, locking eyes with him and reaching out with her Grigorian soul for his. Crona sat up between her and the television, setting the remote down as he collected his thoughts. Soon his nervousness was melted by the softness of her own radiant energy. Like Reiki Hands or ancient chi therapy, Maka had mastered an empathetic and empathic art of compassion. Soon Crona found the ability to speak, as he focused on the more pleasant aspects of his memory.

"Th-There was this train station...it was so tall...I know I was little, but I knew then that it was such a big and foreboding place. It would have scared me more if it wasn't so beautiful. The crowds of people were scary, but I-I realized I could...c-count the pretty tiles on the floor, a-and remember h-how many pillars there were. The exit had this pretty glass window above it."

A soft grin overtook his lips, which dissonantly stuck to his face that also framed a pair of sad and cloudy eyes, "P-Paris was nice...for a while."

He whimpered to himself a little and looked over to Maka, bringing his knees to his chest, then down to the ground.

"I-I guess in a way...d-depending on how you l-look at things...m-maybe you w-weren't my...f-first friend. I mean...I might not think so, b-but they might..."

He trailed off and only snapped back when he realized Maka was looking even more confused than whenever he usually tried to stumble through a story.

"I, uh...L-Lady Medusa wanted me t-to go out and p-practice letting Ragnarok e-eat souls. W-We were both v-very small. S-So...Medusa wanted us to start on animals..."

Maka's face cringed a little as Crona sighed and looked at his feet, "I-I remember walking around t-trying to convince Ragnarok that w-we could find s-some animals that were already dead w-with an intact soul...h-he was so small, he was about the size o-of a penknife. E-eventually w-we found a stretch of tracks n-near the train station a-and found...w-where some birds tried to m-make a nest under a rail. Th-Th...The two birds were k-killed by a passing train and...I let Ragnarok eat their souls. Somebody was watching us, though."

He shuffled a little and splayed out his legs. Maka sat up straight and put her chin on her hands, listening intently.

"There were...these two kids...the boy was older than me and the girl w-was about my age. T-The girl was named Jeanne, and the boy was named Claude. Th-They caught me feeding the souls to R-Ragnarok and assumed I-I was...eating the birds. I-I didn't speak any French b-but Claude knew a l-little English and tried to talk to me. I-I was so scared and nervous b-because I thought they saw Ragnarok in his human form b-before he disappeared inside me..."

Another smile flashed on his face as his glassy eyes looked weary and wistful, "Th-They thought I was an orphan l-like they were. Claude n-nicknamed me...uh...Veneur." His cheeks flushed, and Maka giggled.

"Huh..." She smiled, "That's an old title, right? I think I remember that from history class..."

Crona shrugged and looked away, "I-I was told it just meant 'Hunter.' B-Because of the birds..."

Maka nodded and craned her neck, "So, they were your friends, then?"

Crona pouted a little, a quiver in his lip accentuating it, "M-Maybe they really th-thought we were friends but...I-I didn't...let them in, y'know? P-Past...the line. I-I really didn't know h-how to deal with them...I-I wasn't really sure if it was okay to go with them, but I didn't have any other ideas, and I didn't know how to say no to someone in another language..."

Another sigh, "They w-were all nicknames, too…C-Claude for some painter, a-and Jeanne for Joan of Arc, b-because she was...r-really religious, f-for an orphan."

Sad eyes met Maka's again after fluttering around the room, "I-It's just interesting how...s-somebody so l-low can still feel...loved...by God."

Maka smiled and wanted to say something about faith, but Crona continued. Not that she minded him taking control of the conversation.

"J-Jeanne took me t-to that church...with all the pretty glass and the big bells. Th-There was...a priest there who spoke some English too, a-and he s-said he'd give his blessings t-to any friend of hers..." He smiled again, and Maka remembered how every little grin always lightened up her own expression. The grin fell soon after, though, as his gaze flitted back down to the sheets, the TV humming idly in the background.

"Th-The real point was...o-one day I-I saw Claude and Jeanne in a park, a-and Claude was y-yelling at her...I-I didn't know much French b-but some words s-sounded r-really nasty...then he started pushing her...m-my shadow told me that I should deal with him for her sake...that it would b-be...fun...so I w-went to t-talk to him."

His eyes widened a little as another grin took over his face, but this was...different. It was a grin that Maka didn't necessarily like, a grin that reminded her of the strange adolescent in the Italian cathedral, the one who giggles about torture, attacking with an unstoppable and unpredictable madness.

"Crona..?" She tried to edge herself closer to him, and was surprised when Crona started childishly kicking his legs in the air.

"I walked up to him and said, 'You can't play with little girls like that.'" His grin looked positively surreal, his hazy faded cobalt eyes shining in the darkness as the evening's first crack of thunder echoed outside her window.

"He tried telling me that it wasn't any of my business, that I didn't understand. He thought it wasn't fair that Jeanne was so cute, hehe. He was all mad because she was getting more food and money from strangers than he was. H-He said I would back off if I wasn't an idiot. Then he turned around and slapped Jeanne, and she just started crying. She was b-bawling and praying in French w-with her hands over her face while Claude..t-tried to touch her. Then I heard m-mother say a word I hadn't heard before. 'Accost him.' I-I didn't really know...what that meant, b-but she put the meaning in my mind. Y'know?"

He bit his lip as he tapped his fingers against his skull, drumming a beat into himself as his smile widened sickly, "I-It was all up here...th-that's where I go to, a-anyway, when I r-really...really c-can't deal with things...it used t-to be a scarier place, but..."

Crona blinked for a minute and his twitchy grin fell, his eyes going from foggy with remembrance to tearful in regret.

"N-Next thing I remember...h-he was on the ground, a-and Jeanne was still crying, b-but she was h-hugging me and w-whispering all this stuff to me. I-I guess she thought I saved her b-but still...I didn't know how to deal with that."

Maka smiled a little, relieved in part that the reliving of the madness was finally over, but still just as riveted as ever.

"Sh-She...w-was squeezing me a-and k-kissing all over m-my face..." He blushed another deep hue. Maka blushed a little too, imagining just how adorable a young Crona would be in such an embarrassed situation, trying to push the grislier and sadder elements aside.

"But...then Claude got up and started crying and screaming...th-there was blood on his chest and his head...h-he ran away a-and Jeanne wanted to chase after him, but..."

His once free and kicking limbs around the bed now returned to curl by his chest, knees tucked under his arms.

"L-Lady Medusa s-said that I had done enough damage, a-and she floated down on her broomstick in front of me and Jeanne...Jeanne started running away from me too, crying in the opposite direction. I-I knew Lady Medusa was mad a-and she was flying after me but...I just kept running after Jeanne, e-even if I couldn't talk to her...I still remember what she said." With a twitch his grin came back as did the widened eyes as his voice piped up into a disturbingly accurate impression of a small girl, perhaps no older than five, "'Wahh! Aidez-moi! Sorcière! C'est une démone!' Sh-She was so scared!" He heaved out a twisted guffaw, his eyes looking strained and pained as his cheeks ached from his smiling.

"I followed her into that church a-and she yelled for the priest. F-First he started scolding her for telling lies about witches until he heard from the clinic that Claude was attacked. Th-Then he d-dragged me into another room a-and tried to make me confess. H-He was convinced I had a weapon on me...b-because Ragnarok decided t-to cut Claude across the chest. I-I didn't realize that before..."

He squeezed his own body for slight comfort as the rest of the story came back to him. Unfortunately, when the ending of the tale came back, so did the brunt of the madness, his eyes wide as saucers as his smile twitched again from a throbbing muscle in his jaw.

"S-So I told him...t-the weapon was inside me...my blood is black, you know...that confused him...until Ragnarok shouted at him s-something crude. He heard that voice a-and believed...that I was possessed and had a demon inside me...s-so he tried to pin m-me down...he looked really m-mean, but k-kinda sad too...l-like...scared and scary at the s-same time...H-He tried to t-tear off my clothes and started h-hitting me, screaming that I...h-had to be ch-chastised...that m-my punishment w-was only beginning...And then Ragnarok shot into my shaking hand a-and I...accidentally s-stabbed him in the leg. H-He fell to the ground a-and started saying a-all these things priests sh-shouldn't say a-about what he would do to me...a-and that's when I was so scared t-that I jumped out the window. Th-There was glass in my hair...and in my tummy. B-But the glass w-was removed when Lady Medusa floated by a-and grabbed my robe." He giggled again, "Instead o-of grabbing me l-like she wanted, she just stripped me naked and made my wound bleed more when the glass got caught on the fabric. It just yanked out! I s-smiled at her and said, "L-Look mommy, I sprang a leak!"

His plastered grin still ached his cheeks as tears formed in his eyes, "Sh-She didn't like it when I called her that, b-but she liked it when I l-let my shadow take over...but she told me I deserved the cuts and bruises for running away from her."

Maka pouted at him in concern but was taken aback when she saw him reach down at his shirt and slowly pull it up his body, swaying his hips a little against the mattress as he showed off that same scar Maka had felt before, swiping across his body from around his ribs to near his gut.

"That's how I got this one..~" Crona almost sang childishly, "M-Mommy didn't like it when I got black blood on her clothes, hehe...s-she was happy when it finally closed, t-told me I was very strong for forgetting all that pain...but she told me...all of that would never have happened if I wasn't so foolish...if I didn't trust strangers. A-And I should n-never let a girl d-do those things to me e-ever again...I g-guess Mom didn't like the idea of me being v-vulnerable." He giggled with a twist of insanity, "She really didn't like you...and I guess I didn't really like her...and neither did you...but we really like each other, huh? Th-That's why we talk so much a-and show so much t-to each other, right?"

Maka felt his soul hurt again and opened her arms, silently begging Crona to float away from the madness and find his way back to her. He crawled a little closer, his frame shaking before he fell into her body with his shirt hanging around his neck and only in one arm.

"Do you still think it's fun being vulnerable now..?" Maka asked him patiently, running her hands through his hair. Crona was barely listening and instead answered with something else, his ears ringing and burning as he tried to find something to say as the madness died down in his head.

"Y-You said...I could ask you dumb questions...right?" She nodded and he sighed before burying his shy face into her shirt, "Uh...well, I mean...W-Why do p-people kiss?"

She giggled and instinctively squeezed him close to her, "W-Well, uh..." She was kinda dumbstruck by the shift in conversation, but was secretly overjoyed that he was finally escaping his fit of insanity for good. "Well, Crona...y'know, I'm not sure...I guess it's just another way to show affection by being gentle with each other. Our lips are sensitive, y'know? Things can feel really good on sensitive parts, heh..."

His face flushed again as he recalled something else from childhood, "L-Like h-hands and fingers too..?" He remembered Lady Medusa once asking him, " _Crona, which do you think would hurt more? Having your fingernails removed or losing an arm? The answer might surprise you._ "

Maka smiled at him and reached down, "Yep! Like our hands. That's why we hold hands, I guess. Just to feel connected and safe. M-Maybe kissing is the same way..."

She laughed a little and he sat up slightly, squeezing her hand, "S-So...what does it feel like? I-I r-remember my face being all numb when that happened...I don't think I felt anything..."

"Well," she intoned softly, her voice falling off into a low whisper, "I-I guess I don't really know...I've never really been kissed. I-I mean..." She snickered a little and closed her eyes, "When I was a little girl, I had a birthday party once, and one of the neighbor boys told me to close my eyes if I wanted my gift. He pecked me on the cheek, but I didn't want him to; I didn't like him like that. I didn't really feel anything...well, except annoyance and anger. Heh, Papa was so proud when I started chasing him around the party hitting him with..." She blushed and bit her lower lip, "Well, uh...that was during my big Disney Princess phase. I was running around in a big poofy dress hitting him over and over with a plastic wand. Eheh..."

Crona softened up a little and smiled. Maka wasn't sure if it was over the thought of her dressed up as a princess, or something else. She got her answer soon enough.

"S-So..." he started, "I-It's okay to n-not really know about these things?"

She nodded a little, "Heh, I mean, hey, we're still young, silly. But yeah, not everyone has nearly as much experience as they claim." She laughed, "Especially boys." She added with a wink, "I'm glad you can be open and honest with me about these things...even if it wasn't a totally pleasant memory..." She looked down and stroked his hair again, letting him crane his head against her chest.

Crona blushed a little as he felt her chest through her shirt graze against his cheek, shuddering slightly, "Y-You're too nice for...putting up with every bad thing that comes across my mind...for opening me up over and over..."

She gave him a tight squeeze and sighed softly, "I know, I know..~ But that's what I'm here for, silly...I like you a lot, Crona. If there's anything I can do to help make you happy, I wanna do it. Even if it's getting something that dark and ugly off your chest. Because I know that as sweet as you are, you'll respond in kind and feel so gracious and undeserving and humble." She giggled as she felt his body shrink up at the accuracy of the statement, "But that's just how we build each other up, right? It's just how we are! We help each other because we're...friends." Crona nodded and felt Maka tighten up a little around him. "I-I mean...we've gotta be, right? After all this?"

He nodded again and opened his mouth to speak, only failing and mouth-breathing against her shirt in a way that tickled her chest. She savored the feeling secretly and rubbed at his back encouragingly to help him find the words.

"I-I used to n-not think about things in b-big terms...l-like...'forever,' y'know? It's too scary...But...y-you make things n-not so scary...even big things th-that I think I can't face..."

Maka's heart pounded in her chest at his awkward, fumbling presentation of an otherwise perfectly sweet sentiment. Was she really saying what she thought he was?

"I-I'm glad y-you're happy helping me b-because...I really know I need the help." He sighed, laying his head against her weakly, tears welling up in anxiety, "I-I may not need help...forever...but...c-can we still be…uhm..."

Maka would have rolled her eyes at his shy mumbling if she weren't so overwhelmed with joy at what she thought he was trying to say.

"You mean..." she tried to finish for him, "W-We could...no...we should be...friends forever, huh?"

He nodded and trembled a little as he hugged her again, "I-If you d-don't mind p-putting up with me a-and Ragnarok f-for that long..."

She did wince a little at the thought of "forever" with Ragnarok, but the moment was still too genuine and sincere. The black-blood-brat needed to stay locked away in his veins for a long time. This time alone with Crona was too precious. Crona bared his soul metaphorically and almost literally, pulsing off an energy of nobility, submission, and compassion beneath all his twists, cracks and scars.

"Crona..." she breathed, leaning down to hold him close and press her head into his hair, "I promise...I can't think of any other way to spend forever then spending it with someone as sweet, as kind, and as loyal as you. Part of me believes...maybe...you don't just need me, y'know? We need each other. We're good for each other...beyond all the hugging and hand-holding, right?"

The aura of Crona's soul dimmed in shy embarrassment. She could feel his heart beat anxiously as he probably worried over how much he constantly touched on her. She squeezed him reassuringly as she caught another whiff of his soft hair.

"Not that I don't mind any of that...in fact...sometimes, I guess...maybe a hug isn't enough to show my...affection." Without thinking, her own heart racing, she leaned down once more and closed her eyes, holding him still and tight as she pecked an innocent kiss on the crown of his head.

It felt different than before. Crona's face went hot immediately and he shook like a leaf. Even though his numb memory of childhood soured his opinion of casual affection like that...it felt real this time. It felt authentically...her. He couldn't believe that she had just done that, surely he was dreaming! He bit his own lip to pinch himself, but in his rush he was still too euphoric to register the nervous bite, quick to think he was asleep as no pain registered. His whole body pulsed heavily with a current of black blood, hoping and praying that Ragnarok wouldn't ruin the moment. He felt how her heartbeat had fluttered and thumped as she made the decision to peck his head. It was such a cozy, familial...loving kind of display. He felt ecstatic in a way that almost pushed past all of his anxieties and insecurities over the situation. It took all the strength and presence of mind in the world to look up in her emerald eyes.

Maka had butterflies ravaging her torso in a panic. She felt as if she had stepped over a line, as if one of those childish little kisses was somehow traumatizing to the boy. She wondered if she had pressed her luck or pushed his trust too far. But then, in a gentle whip of his hair, he looked up into her eyes, a slightly giddy and bashful glow of blue as a half-worried, half-crazed boyish grin swept him from ear to ear. He sweated all over and almost fell into her lap weakly when he started to get lost in her eyes and his thoughts again.

"So..." Maka whispered, her eyes flitting between his own and his lips, her own lips quivering shyly, "friends forever, right?"

Crona's face turned bright red as he took a ragged breath, nodding quickly, "Y-Yes...p-please..."

"Well, then..." She reached down and squeezed his hands tight, "Maybe we should get around to that movie, huh, bestie?" Another curt giggle from her and a nervous blush from Crona before he was more forcefully pulled against her, finally getting around to the cartoon.

Even on a small screen with small speakers, the dramatic choirs and bells that introduce the film made Crona's heart skip. He was totally transfixed by the music in a way that other soundtracks on TV didn't seem to emulate. Crona realized a little too late getting into the movie that this was the most artistic thing he'd ever seen, he didn't know how to deal with getting lost in a musical. The recognizable cartoon representation of old Paris almost made Crona's heart melt. Whatever romantic memories he had of the city were only amplified by a world populated by cobblestone streets and gorgeous stone buildings. He blushed slightly when he heard Maka along to the music, cooing softly and girlishly against her blanket as she pulled it up around them. She wiggled up against him and started swaying her body along with the bells in the soundtrack, singing under her breath.

" _From the big bells as loud as the thunder~ to the little bells soft as a psalm...and some say the soul of the city's the toll of the bells...The bells of Notre Dame._ "

She stopped and looked over at Crona, a blush overtaking her.

"Uhm..s-sorry...I keep forgetting this is your first time watching it...I'll be quiet."

That's when she felt him scooch closer to her under the covers, their hips touching and legs entwining slightly.

"N-No, that's fine. Y-You...You have a pretty voice..."

Maka's face flushed again and she reluctantly leaned back into him, craning her head against him and lightly singing along to the soundtrack. She felt Crona tense up throughout the backstory of the movie. She hadn't stopped to think that perhaps Quasimodo was just the sort of hero that Crona needed to see. Her mind raced as she recalled the entirety of the plot in seconds, holding onto him tighter as she wondered what his own memories would do to his enjoyment of the story.

Crona was absolutely enthralled. He had a love for poetry and story-books that he hid from most of the world, even discussing it as little as possible with Maka. This was an entirely new experience, the poetry in the lyrics shaking him to his core. The introduction with the strange gypsy entertainer was cute, or so Crona believed. He found an initial soft-spot for people who are child-friendly. But then the clownish man started telling the tale of the bell-ringer, Quasimodo, " _a tale of a man, and a monster._ "

The story wasn't very child-friendly, even an abused wreck like Crona knew that. He was dumbstruck by the progression of the plot, rhyming couplets tugging at his heart. The animation immersed him like nothing else, and he gasped as Quasimodo's mother ran in fear for her life from Judge Frollo. Maka felt his reactions grow more intense. His heart was beating faster and faster as she ran through the streets of Paris, she felt him tighten up as she screamed at the church doors for sanctuary and his body ached as Quasimodo's mother lay dead on the steps. His heart absolutely stopped when Frollo nearly drowned the baby in the well.

The rest of the film was no less intense. In truth, Maka was feeling a roller-coaster of emotions emanating from his very soul. In the belltower, Crona almost started to cry as Frollo's behavior reminded him much-too-much of Medusa's own abuses. Maka did her ample best to hold onto him and stroke his hair, sing along in his ear, do anything to make him more at ease. He was so locked into the program that regardless of how strongly he felt about it, he couldn't bear not knowing what happened next. Maka wondered if it wasn't all just a terrible idea, but the absolute worst that would happen was Crona squeezing her hand or her body harder. She was thankful for those moments of touch, the tactile reminders helped her stay at least half-awake. As much as she adored the film, things were too cozy with Crona to resist dozing off, missing time as the minutes blurred by in the film. Without realizing it, she had effortlessly went through most of the film in a trance as Crona's personal body-pillow, absorbing his squeezes and hugs of joy, anxiety and fear as he gradually took in the plot. The credits ran with the two of them deep under the covers, Crona rousing Maka awake with a burning blushing complexion and idle conversation.

"I-I really e-enjoyed the movie." He mumbled

"I'm glad."

"I-It was nice that the hero wasn't, uh, popular...o-or raised b-by a normal family...I mean, it's not nice, but-"

"I know what you mean, silly." She giggled.

Crona paused for a minute, "S-Sorry...am I being too chatty?"

She shook her head and ruffled his hair, "No, no. I've just seen this a lot before, I guess I was getting kinda tired...plus, well..."

She crawled out of the blanket and moved along the bed to eject the tape, Crona poking his head out of the blanket to watch her.

"It's already getting kinda dark out, huh? Must be the weather."

Crona looked out her bedroom window and saw the familiar dreary showers of dark, heavy rainclouds. He had barely noticed how quickly the weather had changed. With the skies so dark outside and the lights off in her room, it was no wonder Maka was tired.

"Maybe we could watch the other movies later?" She grinned as she crawled back over to the head of the bed, diving under the covers again. It wasn't until she rejoined him that he had even realized that, for being caught under the blanket, he never properly readjusted his shirt after his bout with the madness. He was only half-wearing it now, and felt a little more nervous as Maka wiggled up against his side.

"Uh...s-sure...n-not all their movies are that...dramatic, right?"

Maka thought for a minute, "Well, I guess a lot of them have some dark moments...but it was still fun, right? We can check them out later, and if things get too scary..."  
Crona blinked innocently as Maka grinned at him, "Wh-What..?"

"Well...I remember growing up, Papa wouldn't like watching scary movies. He would always tell Mama that horror movies reminded him too much of work. But I guess..." She giggled, "maybe the scary stuff just reminded him of Stein, or demons, or something. Anyway...Whenever Papa made a fuss about a weird or creepy movie, Mama said to laugh it off. Y'know what that meant?"  
He shook his head dumbly and Maka quickly rolled over and almost pinned his hips to the bed, a wide, playful but mischievous smile on her face.

"If Papa didn't want to laugh, she'd make him laugh..." Maka let out a slightly crazed giggle as she started to move her hands up and down Crona's bare stomach, tickling at his sensitive sides with long, soft fingertips, her nails lightly scratching into his smooth skin.

"Ahh! Ah-hahh!" Crona started to shout a little. "M-Maka, n-noo!" His pleading collapsed into breathy gasps and heaving laughter. No-one had ever tickled him before, even though he knew what it meant. He didn't understand at first how sensitive spots on your body could just make you laugh. He once tried poking at his own tummy to make himself smile, but Ragnarok told him that people can't tickle themselves, which made Crona sad. Now, his face was flushed and stretched with a nervous grin as he tried to escape from under his best friend, squirming and pleading pitifully as she tickled the smooth muscles around his stomach. His skin burned and he started to feel tears form in his eyes, but he wasn't sad or in pain. It felt chaotic, but wonderful.

Maka was thrilled. Happy memories of her parents together were rare, and it was rarer still that it was a memory worth sharing. As strange as she felt for jumping over a line like this with Crona, she felt, no, knew, that he needed the laughter after all the drama they went through simply to watch a movie. Eventually her movements winded down, slower and slower, falling off of his body and idly tracing her fingers lovingly around his exposed belly, smiling over at him as he still tittered and squealed, pressing his legs together shyly. She gave him a break, at least, she stopped fervently tickling him and eased him into the idea of her holding him by his bare side. She felt how slim his midriff was, how wide his hips were. These were all totally known features of his, but to feel them between her fingertips was something else. She held onto him almost possessively and did her best to remember every shy coo and giggle he uttered. Maka had never heard him legitimately laugh before, something that was sane and precious, not unhinged or diabolical. Even if it was something she tortured out of him, it was a beautiful sound to behold.

Crona's ears were still ringing and his face still flushed fully as Maka cuddled up to him in her bed. He hadn't thought it through before, but it was different, surely? Cuddling on a couch that anyone can come and sit on or see you...and then there's snuggling up in her own bed. The thought made Crona feel warm and funny in his belly, like something was tickling him on the inside. He didn't even notice how Maka lazily draped a single fingertip up and down his stomach, tracing his childhood scar. When he finally did register the light prodding in his tummy, he only had the strength to meekly grin and reach down to hold her hand, the absolute most affection he could bear giving her. She seemed happy with that, as she sighed into his ear and let her fingers splay out across his gut, palm grazing his navel as he laid his hand over hers, their breathing the only sound in the room besides the staccato of rain pulsing and tapping against the house.


End file.
